#or. silly little printing press men in this case

[thegroundsofbrooklyn]

i think if darcy was 1950s movie man he would be the type of guy to sing singin in the rain

[adultbabystories]

Doctor’s orders - Only one absolute image - Part 5

Uncle Gregory lifted Stan with ease. It took Stan by surprise how easily he was lifted. Was he that light or was his new uncle that strong? One hand grabbed Stan’s butt and held him up, and another pressed his body into Gregory’s chest, cradled him. Never lifted by anyone, being carried like that gave Stan a sense of fear from the unknown. What’s going to happen next. But on the other hand, he had a moment of relief, a new thing for him, not having to plan.

He let his head falls into Gregory’s chest, which was firm and warm. A hint of men’s colon was present and with it a smell of a man. Not smelly sweat smell, but a smell that was familiar in a way to Stan. Over his pacifier, Stan allowed himself to take a big inhale, getting familiar with his new caretaker. 

Gregory laid down Stan over the giant changing table. The mattress was covered with a plastic sheet, which had lots of little colorful boats all over it. Still dressed, Stan laid on top of it, sucking his pacifier, looking at Gregory.

“You are maybe silly, but you are not stupid. You know what is going to happen. You are getting diapered and dressed. But as I’ll do that, you are going to stay calm and cute as you are, and I’ll explain what’s wrong with everything I take off, and what’s right with everything I’ll put on. Just like we did with your new pacifier.” said Gregory as he booped the pacifier with his index finger. Gregory unbuttoned Stan’s shirt, asked Stan to sit for a moment, took it off, and pushed him down to the mattress. He did the same for Stan’s jeans. Touching Stan’s crotch made his dick tingle. Gregory didn’t pay any special attention to Stan’s dick, but his firm touch made Stan get all excited, as he sucked his pacifier faster. Gregory lifted Stan’s legs, slid down the jeans, and took them off. On the mattress, Stan had tented boxers. It was so noticeable and so humiliating for Stan.

“Now now” said Gregory and fully grabbed Stan’s dick “This is a problem. In a few moments I’ll explain why it’s a huge problem. Well… the problem is huge at least” then he let Stan’s dick go. Stan was so embarrassed. Did Gregory just comment on his dick size? He felt so helpless laying on a giant changing table, sucking on a giant pacifier, taking comments from a giant man. His dick throbbed. 

Gregory took off stan’s boxers and left him there naked on the plastic mattress and his old clothes next to him. Looking at Gregory, he was going to the closet, bringing colorful clothes, he couldn’t figure what were they. Gregory came close, grabbed Stan’s old clothes with one hand, with the other a new baby printed fabric, and lifted both.

“See these old clothes of yours? These represent the image that you couldn’t be. The high bar you put to yourself. The success you wanted to be. Even when you succeeded, it was never enough. You wanted people to see you in a way you never could see yourself. These clothes, these, are a failure. “ he said and shook the old pile. “But these, these are your solution.” he said and shook his other hand.

Uncle Gregory put down the old pile and unfolded the new piece of cloth. It was a baby blue bodysuit with a zipper on the back. Many teddy bears decorated the babyish thing. Stan gazed at it, and couldn’t believe how different it was from his old clothes.

“While your old clothes tried to project a certain image, with this onesie there is only one absolute image. A baby boy. There is no room for interpretation. There is, with no doubt, is a thing that only a baby would wear. It doesn’t matter how big it is. The wearer is definitely a baby. He is being treated like a baby, and deserver to be treated like one. No man will ever wear an onesie like that, only a baby will. That is why it’s your solution. Some will find it humiliating and pathetic, some will think it’s cute and adorable. But in any case, it’s a baby’s image. You won’t need to impress anyone, especially you won’t exhaust yourself with overachieving. You’ll just be, a baby. You will know it, and anybody else will when they’ll look at you.” Uncle Gregory explained with such a gentle voice, holding the onesie up.

Stan lay there, taking it all in. It all made such sense. He was tired of the burden of impression. He wanted the unwind the onesie seemed to offer, he craved it. Stan was gazing at his solution.

On the changing table, a trail of drool grow from sucking his pacifier, and a drop of pre-cum dripped from his not huge dick.

[atlafan]

The Tutor - Part Three

a/n: alright, I think I have these two out of my system now. hope you enjoy! feedback is always appreciated, as well as reblogs! 

Part One Part Two

Warnings: fluff, SMUT, slight angst, slight spitting, partying, alcohol consumption.

Words: 18.6K

After spending like what felt a week in bed together, the spring semester officially began. Y/N was in a stage of just feeling giddy from how good Harry made her feel. Now that they had been together for a few months, she felt totally comfortable with him. She would often sleep naked, or lounge around in just her underwear she knew they would be alone for a while. Harry didn’t mind one bit. He liked how cute and sweet Y/N was, and he loved being loved on by her.

When she walks into their Art of Film class she scoffs when she sees him sitting in the second row. She walks right up to him and rolls her eyes.

“We are not sitting this close up.” She shakes her head.

“I like sitting closer, Y/N.”

“But if we’re going to be watching movies, then we should sit in the back.”

“This isn’t even a stadium style classroom, so that doesn’t make any sense. If you wanna sit in the back then be my guest, but this is where I like to sit.”

Y/N sighs heavily and sits down next to him. She didn’t like sitting up front in class, it just meant she would be called on more and she didn’t much feel like participating to the extreme in just a gen ed. She liked to save her energy for her major courses.

“You’re a little too studious sometimes, you know that?”

“Y/N.” He hums warningly and side eyes her. “Are you going to be able to handle sitting next to me? Or is this going to be an issue?”

“Golly gee, professor, I don’t know, maybe I should come to your office hours later to discuss it.” She smirks at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be mean.” He pouts. “I have a tough time concentrating in the back sometimes, so sitting up front is better for me. We’re in the second row at least.”

“I suppose that’s true.” She sighs.

Other students fill in. Billy from senate is in the class as well, and sits behind Harry. Y/N gives him a smile as well. The professor walks in, and sets his bag down on the desk. He gets his computer hooked up to the tech station so he can use the projector.

“God, please don’t tell me we’re going to watch Fight Club and Pulp Fiction.” Y/N groans.

“I didn’t see those on the syllabus.” Harry says, taking a few papers out. “Actually, a lot of the films we’re going to watch were directed by women, or have strong female casts.”

“You…already printed the syllabus?”

“Yeah, it’s what I did after I sent you home last night. I did it for all of my classes.”

“Good morning everyone, I’m Professor Robinson, feel free to call me Eric.” He smiles. “I’m really excited about this course, it’s one of my favorites to teach. We’re going to watch some great films, and learn about what goes into making them. I hope you all will get the book needed for class. It’s a little dense, but I promise I’ll be able to explain it in ways for you to understand.” He starts to go over the syllabus a bit. “One of the first films we’re going to be watching is Baby Face, it came out in 1933, and is considered a drama and a noir. This came out right at the beginning of when the Hays Code was being introduced, so we’ll be comparing this to Double Indemnity, which came out in 1944, another Barbara Stanwyck film. You’ll be able to see how differently the films were made, and even the difference in how female characters were treated. We’ll go over the Hays Code as well, but these two films will be great starting points. Now, you may have noticed that Wednesday evenings were put on your schedules from 7-9PM. These are optional meeting times. I will be showing the films here during this time, or you can watch them on your own. Whatever’s easier.” He smiles and continues on.

Y/N was captivated. She wasn’t sure what to expect from the course, and even though they would be watching a few black and white films in the beginning, the subject matter actually interested her.

“Alright, now, I hate doing the normal ice breakers where we all state our names, our majors, and a fun fact, and I know you all have made claim to your seats, so, turn to the person next to you, introduce yourself and talk about what you look for in a film when you go to the theater.”

Harry and Y/N look at each other and smile. Harry extends his hand out to her and she giggles as he shakes it.

“You’re so silly! Okay, when I go to the movies, like, if I’m going to pay to see a movie, I want to know that I’m going to laugh and not be bored. Like, I know it’s a good movie if I don’t check my phone the entire time. I like when the beginning is easy to follow along so I’m not confused.”

“Same here. I sort of like being sucked into another world, like, escape for a little bit. I feel like when I go to the movies, it’s one of the few times I don’t need to think too much about anything. It’s when I feel my least anxious.”

“Okay!” Eric says. “Glad you all could get to know each other a bit. I think we can end class a little early. Please make sure to check out the moodle page, there is a forum post do before Wednesday, and make sure you have Baby Face watched by next Monday. Thanks everyone!”

“This is going to be a fun class.” Y/N says to Harry as they walk out together.

“I think so too.” He kisses her cheek. “Where are you headed next? I have stats.”

“I’m heading to my Macroeconomics class, and then I have Organizational Communication, then I’m done for the day.”

“Alright, and then I’ll assume you have lifting?”

“Mhm.” She grins at him and pulls him aside.

“What?”

“Your birthday is this Friday.”

“Is it?” He pretends. “Had no idea.”

“Well, I hope you know I have a lot planned.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup, you’re going to be spoiled rotten, babe.” She gets on her tip toes to kiss him. “I gotta go, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” He chuckles as he heads upstairs to his stats class.

//

Y/N and Harry decide to be good sports Wednesday night and go to the formal viewing of Baby Face for their class. Most of the class actually showed up, so it made it more fun to watch. There was a scene where a man put his hand on Barbara’s knee, and she poured hot coffee on him without skipping a beat. Y/N loved her. She climbed her way up to the top by manipulating men, just as the men her life when she was younger had tried to manipulate her.

“I loved that movie!” Y/N exclaims as they leave the academic building. “She was so badass, taking no one’s shit.”

“Yeah, I really liked it too.” He yawns. “Christ, I’m tired.” He leads her in the direction of her apartment.

“Did I tell you me, Gina, Amanda, and Becca all signed a lease for an off campus place next year? We’re really excited.”

“That’s great! We’re all staying in the same apartment, which I’m happy about. It’s the perfect spot.” Harry walks Y/N up to her door and she looks confused when he stays outside. “M’gonna go back to my place, it’s late and I have an 8AM tomorrow…”

“Oh…alright.” She wraps her arms around his neck, and his go around her waist. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Anytime, baby.”

They stand outside kissing for a while before he detaches himself from her. They both giggle and say goodnight before she goes inside. Louis and Niall were in the living room when Harry gets back, and he flops down onto the couch with them.

“Hey, mate, how was the movie?” Louis asks.

“Not too bad, actually. We both enjoyed it. I don’t think I’ll have the energy to go every Wednesday night, though. I’m pooped.”

“Did you go to the gym this morning?” Niall asks.

“Yeah, went for my usual run. Forgot how tiring going to classes all day were. Sort of miss just working in the law office.”

“I’m surprised Y/N isn’t with you.” Louis says.

“Nah, I walked her home and told her I wanted to come back here. I can’t get into the habit of having a lot of sleepovers during the week.” He hoists himself to his feet. “Well, I’m off to bed, goodnight.”

“Night, mate.” Niall and Louis say.

Harry gets cozy in bed, and then groans to himself when his boxers become uncomfortably tight. He rolls his eyes at himself. Did he have to press up against Y/N while they were making out earlier? Of course he was fucking did, and now he was too riled up to fall asleep. He wondered if the same thing ever happened to her.

Harry: can’t sleep

Y/N: thought you were exhausted

Harry: I was, but now I can’t stop thinking about you

Y/N: me or my parts, lmao

Harry: YOU

Y/N: not much I can do to help you from all the way over here…

Harry: picture???

Y/N: Harry!

Harry: you sent a ton over break!

Y/N: that was different

Harry: please??

Y/N: fine, I’ll send you a snap, gimme a minute

Y/N rips her blankets off her body, unsure of what sort of picture he was hoping for. She gets up and strips herself of her bed-shirt, and takes a mirror selfie, careful to hide most of her face, just in case, and sends it to him on snapchat. Harry was already stroking himself in anticipation. He grins ear to ear when he sees the notification pop up on his phone, and opens it immediately.

“Oh, fuck me.” He groans when he sees her naked body on display for him. She had squeezed one of her breasts, and he could just make out her biting her bottom lip. He knew she didn’t really like receiving nudes, even if it was from him, so he sends her back a pouty selfie telling her how fucking beautiful she was.

Y/N: you did this to yourself, you could have come up

Harry: I was trying to be good

Y/N: look at you now, giving yourself a hand job

Harry: don’t be mean…would you send another?

Y/N: yeah, hold on

She sends him a snap of her breasts pushed together, and that does it for him. He bites down on his knuckle while come gets on his other fist and lower belly. He gives himself a minute before cleaning himself up and laying back in bed.

Harry: thank you baby

Y/N: you realize you owe me

Harry: I’ll give you anything you want, you know that

Y/N: love you, goodnight

Harry: love you too, sweet dreams

He sighs happily as his eyes flutter closed. Y/N rolls her eyes and smirks to herself. Sometimes these moments were gentle reminders that even though Harry was a little more “woke” than most guys, he was still your average college guy. He wanted nudes from his girlfriend, and he wanted to sext even though he easily could have just come inside. She wasn’t annoyed her anything, and she didn’t want to be with his birthday so close. However, now she was left there, aroused at the idea of him simply getting off to a couple of pictures of her. She figures if he could do that, then she could do the same. She told him about most of her winter break, but what she hadn’t told him was about her new little friend. The girls had all gone to a sex shop, and she bought a little bullet vibrator. Y/N gets up and goes into her closet to use it. If he didn’t want to come in to satisfy her, she had other ways of getting around it.

//

Thursdays were days Y/N could meet up with Harry for lunch, so she happily goes to see him at the dining hall. She smiles and sits down with her food. He had his laptop out, typing away at something.

“How could you possibly already have something so important to do?” She sighs.

“Student senate stuff.” He says and then closes his laptop. “Thanks for your help last night.” He smirks and then kisses her cheek.

“You’re welcome.” She sips on his drink.

“Are you excited for your game tonight?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, why would I be?”

“You seem a little annoyed with me…”

“Not at all, Har.” She shrugs. “I just think that if you wanted to fuck me, you could have come inside.”

“I didn’t feel like spending the night.”

“I’ve told you before that you don’t need to.”

“You say that, but then you give me this look, and then I feel guilty…so I just don’t come in at all. It’s easier.”

“Mm, and then you get to conveniently rub one out.”

“Are you upset that I asked you to send me pictures?”

“No, I suppose it’s flattering. I just think I make things a little too easy for you sometimes. It’s not exactly easy for me to get off on my own, you know?”

“Aw, did I leave you hanging?” He genuinely felt bad.

“Nope, took care of it myself. Don’t exactly need you, do I?” She grins. “Made my back arch off the bed all by myself, no help from you whatsoever.” She bites into her sandwich, and looks innocently as his grimacing face. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re being mean. What are you saying, I don’t make you feel good anymore?”

“No, you make me feel plenty good. But I know a thing or two now, so don’t you worry about not wanting to come up and fuck me because I can handle it all on my own. In fact, let’s be like an old married couple who have sex nights and just do it once a week. That could be fun.”

“You are annoyed with me.”

“I’m not.” She leans closer to him so no one around can hear. “I just don’t want to be your personal porn star when you can’t fall asleep at night.”

“That’s not what I…” He sucks his teeth. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was a little selfish, I’m sorry.” He pouts at her and hides his face in her neck. “Love you so much.” He kisses on her neck slowly, and she sighs.

“It’s okay.” She rubs his back. She really couldn’t stay upset with him when he was like this. He was just too cute. “I love you too.”

He sits up straight and pecks her lips before eating more of his food.

“I can hang out tonight if you want, no Friday classes this semester.”

“Me neither! Although, I’ll still have practice tomorrow morning. I’ll think about it. Maybe you could come to dinner after the game?”

“I’d love to.”

The girls ended up losing, so there was no community dinner down town, and Y/N was in too sour of a mood to have alone time with Harry, which he understood. Tomorrow was his birthday, so she’d rather start fresh with him when she was in a better mood.

//

“Shh.”

Harry’s eyes flutter open around nine. He usually never sleeps this “late”, but his alarm didn’t go off for some reason. His eyes snap open when he sees, Y/N, Niall, and Louis all creeping into his room. They were holding balloons and streamers and confetti.

“Happy birthday!” They all scream and dog pile on Harry. He laughs hysterically.

“Okay, okay!” He yelps. “Can’t breathe!”

The boys both get off the bed, but Y/N stays straddling him.

“Right, well, we’ll be whipping up some brekkie downstairs.” Louis says with a wink as he and Niall leave the room.

Y/N gets up quickly to lock the door and then she gets right back on top of Harry. His hands grip her hips tightly.

“What a nice surprise.” He smiles up at her. “Do you mind if I go brush my teeth and all that? Just woke up, you know.”

“You know what’s funny? With all of the excitement this morning, I forgot to take a shower.” Harry’s eyes grow wide at her. “What do you say, Har?” She says lowly.

“They’re home…”

“They’ll be busy making what I asked them to, and they’ve been told not to come upstairs. They just want you to have a good birthday, and so do I.”

“Do you even have anything with you?”

“Yeah, my bag’s right over there.” She points to it. “So…”

“Alright, yeah, let’s go take a shower.” He says excitedly.

Harry brushes his teeth while Y/N gets her hair up in a bun so it won’t get wet.

“Did you shower after practice?”

“I rinsed very quickly, not the same thing.” She takes her clothes off and presses her body against Harry’s. “This is much better.”

“I agree.”

He pulls the curtain back and helps her in. They both giggle as the water hits his back, and she wraps her arms around his neck. His hands slide down to her ass and he squeezes her. He licks into her mouth, and she happily glides her tongue along his. She bites his bottom lip and steps back, grabbing at his body wash.

“Which scrubbie is yours?”

“Oh, I just use these.” He holds up two gloves that are made from exfoliating rags. “They work much better and they’re more sanitary.”

“Learn something new about you every day, Har.” She grabs the gloves and puts them on, and squeezes the body wash onto them. “Turn around, gonna getcha all clean.”

“Wow, I’m really being spoiled today.”

He turns around and nearly purrs at the feeling of her scrubbing his back. She turns him around so she can do the same to his front and arms. She peels the gloves off and rinses them out.

“Thanks, baby.” He smiles as the soap rinses off him.

“Want me to wash your hair too?” She asks shyly. “Grew my nails out for you.” She holds them up to show him and he his mouth forms in an “O”.

“Yes, please.”

She giggles and get his shampoo lathered into her hands, and he bends down a bit so she can properly scrub at his head. He moans softly as her nails scratch at his head. She massages his scalp a bit as well before helping him rinse it out. Once he’s all clean, she gets on her knees in front of him, and starts stroking him up and down.

“Is this what you wanted the other night?”

“Yes.” He grunts. “Are you sure you feel like doing this right now?”

“Mhm.” She hums before swirling her tongue around his tip.

Harry mindlessly grips at the tile on the wall while she bobs her head up and down on him. She swallows around him and plays with his balls, doing everything she knows he really likes.

“Baby, please, let me touch you.”

She looks up at him and he nearly loses it. He helps her stand up and he pushes her up against the wall, and she gasps with surprise at his abrupt forcefulness. His lips sponge at her neck and across her chest. One of his hands slides between her legs and her head rolls back against the tile.

“We’re wasting water.” She groans. “Let’s get out, and then we can play a little more.”

“You’re not just teasing?”

“No, babe.”

“Okay.”

They both get out, and get wrapped in towels. Harry smells the food from downstairs, and his stomach growls, but he soon forgets he’s hungry when he sees Y/N drop her towel and shake out her hair.

“Come and get me, birthday boy.”

He drops his towel and nearly tackles her onto his bed. He nips at her lips and works his way down her body, biting and sucking where he pleases. He just wanted his head between her legs. He spreads her apart, and licks a flat stripe up her center.

“Jesus.” She shivers from that alone, and slots her fingers through his hair.

He sucks harshly on her clit, and swirls his tongue around it, nibbling a little before sucking on it again. She moans out a little too loudly and she covers her mouth with her hand. She didn’t exactly want to put on a show for the boys downstairs. That all goes to hell when he licks into her. She props herself up on her elbows to watch him. He looks up at her while he fucks her with his tongue, and the eye contact is too much for the both of them, but they continue through any embarrassment they may feel.

“Oh my god.” She pants as her head rolls back. His mouth moves back to her clit, and two of his fingers slide inside her, twisting around as he pumps them in and out. “Harry, fuck, oh my god.”

He curls his fingers up as he gets in knuckle deep, and rubs them against her g-spot, as he continues to suck on her clit. He groans against her when he feels her tighten around him.

“Gonna come?”

“Yes, oh my fucking god, shit!” She cries out as she pulses and vibrates around him. He takes his fingers out and laps away at her as she comes down from her high.

“Ready for my cock?”

“Please.” She breathes and nods.

He gets up and grabs a condom to roll on. He gets back on the bed, but she pins him down, pinning his hands on either side of his head.

“Let me take care of it, baby, just want you to feel good and relax.”

She lines herself up and sinks down on him. He moans out at the tight feeling. She brings her hands back down to his and intertwines their fingers as she keeps them pinned on his pillow. She rocks back and forth on him slowly, just getting adjusted, and then she starts to get a good pace going, moving up and down on him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He grits his teeth and squeezes her hands. “You feel so good.” He was panting, watching her above him like this was really doing something to him, and he sort of speaks before he thinks. “Would you spit in my mouth?”

Y/N kept moving on him, but she looked down at him deeply concerned.

“You want me to what?!”

“Never mind!”

“No, I’ll do it!”

“Forget I said anything! I don’t even know why I-“

“Harry, you want me to spit? I’ll spit!”

“It’s weird, it’s too weird, I went too far!”

“Open your mouth!”

Harry’s mouth falls open, his tongue peeking out. Y/N wells up some spit in her mouth and leans down so her mouth was close to Harry’s. She didn’t want to spit harshly. She sort of just wanted her saliva to drip from her tongue to his. Maybe that could be sensual? So she does just that. She opens her mouth and lets the spit in her mouth roll from her tongue to his. She was moving on him in slow circles as she did this. He swallows it and looks up at her. He uses the power from his legs to thrust up into her since his hands were busy squeezing hers.

“Do it again.” He breathes.

She happily obliges and does it again for him. It was his birthday, she’d do anything he wanted…within reason of course. She supposed it wasn’t the weirdest thing he could have asked for. His tongue had been so far up her cunt, swapping spit was probably the least odd bodily fluid they could have shared.

She stays close to him, sucking on his tongue while they move in sync with each other. She starts squeezing and tightening around him. She was rubbing up against him in the perfect way, and he was about ready to lose it himself.

“M’gonna come, Y/N.” He groans.

“Me too, fuck, me too.”

She sits up straight and her back arches as she comes, and his release wasn’t too far behind. He feels like he explodes inside of the condom. She lets go of his hands slowly and he helps her off of him. He runs a hand through his hair as he watches her wobble around to get some pants and a t-shirt on.

“Just gonna go pee.” She kisses his cheek and slips out of his room.

He disposes of the condom, and puts his boxers and sweatpants on, not much feeling like a shirt at the moment. He was sitting on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, when she came back into the room. She sits down next to him and smiles.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I just, um, was that weird?”

“What?”

“When I asked you to spit in my mouth?”

“Um…” She blushes. “It took me a little off guard, but it’s really not that weird.”

“I don’t even know why I wanted you to do that, it just sort of slipped out.”

“It’s really not that different from kissing, I mean, we technically spit on each other all the time.”

“Guess that’s true.” He smirks and grabs his glasses. “It’s been quite the morning.”

“It’s not over yet.” She stands up and reached for his hand. “Come on.”

They both come downstairs, and Harry gasps.

“Yorkshire pudding?!”

“Got the recipe of Delia Smith’s website.” Louis laughs. “Hope it tasted good. We made eggs, beans, and bacon too.”

“Thanks guys.”

It was a nice breakfast for the four of them. Y/N hangs out with Harry all day. They paint each other’s nails, watch a movie, cuddle, and just enjoy each other’s company. He had gotten a little sleepy, so he was peacefully napping with his head resting in her chest. Y/N noticed that Harry was a stomach sleeper, but he liked having something to hold on to. It was really cute. She was playing with his hair while reading on her phone. It was a really nice lazy day, and a perfect way to make sure everything was getting set up for his surprise party at Ashley’s. She hears his phone start to buzz and sees it a FaceTime request from Gemma.

“Babe, it’s your sister.”

“Okay.” He mumbles and sits up. “Hello!”

“Happy birthday!” Gemma and Anne say together.

“Harry, are you still in bed?” Anne asks.

“Was taking a nap, Mum. It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to catch up on some sleep.”

“Are you doing anything fun?”

“Y/N and the guys made me breakfast, and then we watched a movie, and I think we’re going out tonight.”

“Is she with you now?” Gemma asks.

“Yeah.” He flips the camera.

“Hi, Y/N!” Gemma says.

“Hello.” She says shyly and waves. Harry flips the camera back to himself.

“I love you both, but m’all groggy.”

“Alright, honey, I sent you a nice package so hopefully you’ll get it soon. We love you!”

“Thanks!” He tosses his phone elsewhere, and pushes Y/N back down so he can put his head back on her chest. “So comfy.”

“We should probably get up soon…”

“Why? What else you got planned?”

“Just dinner with friends. We should be there around seven.”

“S’only four now, plenty of time to keep chilling out. I never get to do this, it’s nice.”

“Okay, babe.” She goes back to playing with his hair and reading on her phone.

//

When it was time to get ready, Y/N put on some black tights that had a pattern on them, her black mini pencil skirt, and a long sleeve red crop top. Harry had a long sleeve blue button up on paired with his black jeans. He was putting his boots one when he watched Y/N zip up her own boots.

“You look so fucking sexy.” He says as he gets up and wraps his arms around her. “Are you sure we have somewhere to be, and I can’t just take this all off you?”

“Sorry.” Y/N giggles. “But dinner’s waiting.”

“But I’m only hungry for one thing.” He pecks at her lips.

“Didn’t you have enough of that earlier?”

“Never enough, babe.”

“Oh, Harry.” She swats a hand at his chest. “Come on.”

They both get their coats on and head out. She loops her arm around his, and leads the way. He realizes they’re headed towards Ashley’s apartment, but he doesn’t question it. She opens the door and everyone yells surprise. Harry laughs and walks in. They put their coats away and he’s amazed at the spread of appetizers there was.

“Thank you all so much, this is great.” He smiles.

All of his friends from senate were there, Louis, Niall, some other people from the soccer team, and other friends. And of course the entire women’s hockey team, but that was a given. A cake is brought out and everyone sings happy birthday to him. After settling down from the food, all of the drinks come out. Everyone takes shots of tequila, and then Y/N makes Harry a vodka cranberry, his favorite. That’s what he stuck with all night. He didn’t want to throw up from mixing drinks.

Y/N was off talking to her friends, but when the music starts to get good, Harry finds her, and yanks her towards him. She wraps her arms around his neck as they start to slow grind.

“Can’t believe you put all of this together for me.”

“Well, it wasn’t all me, the guys helped.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

Harry was really drunk, like, more drunk than Y/N had ever seen him, so she was taking it easy on her own drinks. He stayed attached to her while they danced for the rest of the night. She indulged in making out with him, but there was no way they were having sex again when they got back to his place. Louis and Niall had to help walk him back because there was no way she could carry him. They help him up the stairs in and into his room.

“I’ve got it from here, boys, thanks.”

“Night, Y/N.” Niall says as he and Louis leave.

“Okay, let’s…Harry…” She giggles as he sloppily kisses her neck. “Come on, I wanna get you into bed.”

“Mm, me too. Let’s get you into bed.”

“No, baby, for sleep. Gotta get you out of these clothes for sleep.” He bites down on her neck and squeezes her ass and she groans for a moment before pushing him off. She puts her hands on her hips and looks at him. “We can do that in the morning, you’re really drunk.”

She steps forward and unbuttons his shirt, and gets his pants off. She sits him down on the bed while she gets her own clothes off. She throws on one of his t-shirts and flips the lights off. She climbs into bed with him, and he spoons her, pressing his bulge against her ass.

“M’so hard.” He whines.

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.”

“You gave me such a nice birthday.” He holds her closer and nestles into her hair.

“I’m glad you had a nice day, babe.” She chuckles.

“It was the best.” He yawns, and not too long after…he’s out.

Y/N was grateful he didn’t get sick. She didn’t do well with throw up. She drifts off slowly after him. She wakes up a couple of hours later to the sound of his door opening and closing. She sits up immediately, hoping he wasn’t getting up because he was sick. He comes back moment later chugging water from his water bottle.

“Oh, thank god.” She breathes.

“Need some?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and takes the bottle from him.

“Sorry I woke you. I was fucking parched.” He crawls back into bed and takes the bottle from her. “Think I’m still a little drunk.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised, I let you drink too much.” She runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh, but I had so much fun. I’ll just sleep it off.” He gives her a few pecks before settling back down. She rests her head on his chest and he holds her close. This was the life.

//

The team made it to the first round of playoffs, but nothing further, so their season ended at the end of February. It was sad for the seniors on the team, but mostly everyone was happy for their break. No more early morning practices. They just needed to keep up with lifts in the late afternoons. This also meant that Y/N could stay out later most nights. Ashley and Megan had people over almost every night to drink. They weren’t raging, but Y/N was loving not having to worry about getting up at the crack of dawn. Harry didn’t always go with her, which was fine. He had 8AM’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after all.

There was one Tuesday night Harry was already asleep in bed when his phone started ringing. He saw Y/N’s name, and swiped to take the call.

“Baby?” He says groggily.

“Hey sunshine!”

“Amanda?” He sits up. “Why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

“Well, her head’s in the toilet at the moment. She really wants to go home, but it would look bad if one of us carried her. UPD would question us for sure.”

“She’s sick?” He sighs, already pulling some sweats on.

“Yeah, so is Gina. It’s no Bueno.”

“What the hell happened? Where are you?”

“At Ashley’s…we did shots, and then played slap the bag. Not a great mix.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

He rubs his eyes, grabs his glasses and heads out. He walks right into Ashley’s. Her apartment was filled with smoke and people. Harry partied like anyone else, but not so much on a Tuesday night. He walks to where he knows the bathroom is and doesn’t see anyone.

“Harry!” Amanda says. “She’s over here.” She tugs him over to the living room where Y/N was basically passed out on the couch.

“Christ, where’s Gina?”

“She’s crashing in Megan’s room. Come on, Y/N, Harry’s here.” She nudges her.

“Hm?” Her eyes open slightly and then they grow wide. “No! I don’t want him to see me like this!” She hides her face in her hands.

“It’s okay, babe, let’s get you home.” Harry says, lifting her up bridal styles. “I can’t carry her likes across campus, we’ll get stopped. Help me get her on my back, that’s less weird looking.”

Amanda nods and helps Y/N get situated so Harry could give her a piggy back ride. She was complete dead weight.

“She’s gonna kill me for calling you, but she didn’t want to stay…I’m sorry, I know you were sleeping.”

“It’s alright, Amanda. I’d rather her be safe. You guys have been going a little nuts lately, yeah?”

“We can’t help it. We’re not allowed to get crazy during the week during the season. Things will settle down soon. Spring break is coming up, you know? Last year we all went home and detoxed essentially.”

Amanda gets the apartment door open, and lets Harry take Y/N upstairs.

“Are you gonna spew again?”

“No.” She mumbles.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna put this bucket here.” He brings her barrel over. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

“Go home, you need to sleep.”

“I’m gonna take care of you.”

“No, you’re gonna be mad at me in the morning.”

“I won’t be.”

“Yes you will.” She pouts and her eyes start to tear up.

“Nope, none of that, come on.”

“I can take my own clothes off.”

“Okay, I’ll get your pj’s then.” He goes into her dresses and she lunges towards him, tackling him down. “Y/N! What the fuck?!”

“Don’t go in there! I have things in there you can’t see!”

“You could have just said that! You’re not on the fucking ice!” He gets them both up. “What’s in there that I can’t see?”

“Personal things.”

“Babe.” He pinches the bridge of her nose. “Get your clothes off, now, and I will get your pj’s.”

He goes back into where he knows she keeps her larger t-shirts.

“Harry!” His eyes grow wide after grabbing a shirt off the top. There were two different vibrators and a dildo. “I’ve only ever used the little one…”

“Put this on.” He hands her the t-shirt and closes the drawer.

She strips out of her clothes and he looks the other way to give her some privacy. She gets stuck when she tries to get her shirt on and he helps her.

“Fuck, I have to pee so bad.” She says, sprinting out of the room. He sits down on her bed and waits for her. She brushes her teeth while she’s in the bathroom too. “You’re still here?” She asks, shocked.

“Where the fuck am I going? I’m not leaving you like this.”

“But…you saw the things.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow, or never, I don’t really care.” She sits on his thighs, straddling his lap. “Y/N.” He sighs.

“I just…I don’t want you to think…I mean…I got them over winter break, and-“

“I don’t care, you don’t need to tell me, okay? Can we go to sleep?”

“You’re gonna stay?”

“I just said I was going to! Come on.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’m a little cranky, yeah. Your friend called me drunk to tell me your head was in a toilet while I was sleeping. At least tomorrow we don’t have class until 10:30, so I’ll have to get back and grab my shit beforehand. Now, lay down on the edge so you’re closer to the bucket.” He rids himself of his sweats, leaving himself in his boxers, and gets in with her. She turns to face him while he’s facing her. “You need to turn over.”

“But you’re so pretty.” She whispers and it makes him crack a smile as she pokes his dimple. “I’m sorry she called you.”

“I’m not, I’d come get you any time. I’ll carry you home whenever you need.” He strokes the side of her face. “You’ve done the same for me, it’s fine. Just lay on your stomach for me, okay? I’ll rub your back how you like.”

“Okay.” She smiles and does as he says. She falls asleep with him softly petting on her and it feels amazing.

His alarm goes off at 8AM and she groans.

“Up, let’s go.” He says, rummaging through her closet for her spare towels. “We’re showering quickly and then going to my place, and then we’re getting greasy breakfast sandwiches so you’re not hungover for class.”

“Eric won’t care, he likes me.” Y/N mumbles.

“A little too much if you ask me.”

“Oh stop. I could say the same about that freshman you’re tutoring.”

“How about neither of us play the jealous game?”

“Deal.” She stands and nearly vomits. “Ugh, I feel like shit.”

“You’ll feel better soon.”

“You came to my rescue last night?”

“Yup, that’s me, prince charming.” He rolls his eyes and tugs her out of her room.

She puts her hair up and they both get into the shower. Harry gets them both clean, and dressed. He makes sure she has everything for class, and then they head to his place. Once he has all of his things, and has new sweats on, they head to the coffee shop on campus for breakfast sandwiches.

“Harry…you’re wearing sweatpants to class.”

“I’m aware.”

“But you never wear sweatpants to class.”

“I’m a little fucking tired, Y/N, is that alright?”

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not…” He sighs and looks at her. “I just…I’m feeling anxious from things happening so abruptly. My entire routine got messed up and-“ He could feel his breathing quickening so he takes a deep breath. “It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine, let’s just go eat.”

They both get coffees and breakfast sandwiches and grab a table to sit. They had about thirty minutes before class, so they could take their time eating.

“Fuck, this was a good idea.” She moans as she eats.

“Yeah.” He agrees as he bites into his own. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe go a little less hard at the parties during the week?”

“You got it. I hate throwing up, I’m not dealing with that again, nor am I going to do that to you again.”

“I wouldn’t care…it’s just…it was a school night is all.”

Y/N nods her head and continues eating her breakfast sandwich. Once they’re done, they head to class and sit down. Eric was there a little earlier than usual.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m glad you’re here. I wanna talk to you about your paper on your Bond comparative essay.”

“Oh…okay.” Y/N walks up to him and he takes her paper out. Harry can’t help but watch the conversation as other students come into class. “I know I’m not a very good writer…”

“No! You’re brilliant, actually. This is one of the better papers I’ve seen. You made a lot of incredible points. You got an A, see?” He shows her and her eyes grow wide. “I was wondering if I could if I could hang onto this and scan it to save as a copy. Students are always asking me for example papers, and I think this is a great paper to use.”

“Are you serious? Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

“Great, thanks.” He smiles. “Well done.”

“Thank you…” She blinks and sits back down. She looks at Harry in shock. “He wants to keep my paper to use as an example.”

“That’s great! You worked really hard on that one, Y/N, you deserve a little praise.”

Eric passes out the rest of the papers, and gives Y/N hers so she could look at any notes he may have made. Harry also got an A, not that Y/N was surprised, but she was happy for him nonetheless.

“H, what did you get?” Billy whispers from behind him. Harry turns to look at him.

“An A, what about you?”

“B+, not too bad.”

“Alright everyone, today, as a treat, we’re going to watch Austin Powers since we’ve just finished our Bond unit. Since we’ve watched a few films, you’ll see that this movie takes a lot from Gold Finger and Golden Eye.” He says as he starts the movie and turns the lights.

“Ugh, thank god. If there was ever a day to just chill in class, it’s today.” Y/N whispers to Harry.

“Agreed.” He whispers.

Eric clears his throat to get their attention, and they both sit back in their seats. There were plenty of laughs throughout class as the movie continued. Y/N stretches as she stands once class ends, revealing a little bit of her stomach. Harry catches Eric looking briefly, and puts his arm around her shoulders.

“Have a good stats class.” She puckers lips and kisses him.

“Thanks, have a good rest of your day. I won’t be able to meet up tonight, I’m doing a group tutoring session, and then I have an 8AM tomorrow…”

“Okay, well…thanks again for last night. I really owe you.”

“No you don’t.” He smiles and gives her a lingering kiss before they part ways.

//

Spring break was definitely the detox Y/N needed from all of the drinking she had been doing with the hockey team, although, she really didn’t want to go home. Harry would be staying on campus with any other students who couldn’t go home. He had projects he needed to work on, but he also thought it would be a nice time break to spend with Y/N. She couldn’t stay on campus, though, because she needed to work at the bar. She also needed to bring up going to Italy this summer to her mom.

“Great work tonight, honey.” Angie says to her as they wipe down the tables.

“Thanks…um…can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course!” She stops what she’s doing to look at her daughter. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I just…well, I’ve been invited somewhere this summer, and I’d really like to go.”

“Alright, where have you been invited to?”

“Italy.” She mumbles.

“Come again?”

“Italy.” She says a little louder. “See, Harry-“

“Oh, here we go.” Angie rolls her eyes.

“Mum, please, let me just explain.”

“Okay.” She crosses her arms and sits down.

“He and his friends spend three weeks in Italy every summer, one of their dad’s has a house by the water or something. They go end of July through early August, so it’s not like I’d be missing the holiday rush…I’d like to go the whole time, but I’d be willing to compromise, and I’ll pay my own way.”

“You expect me to let you take an international flight alone? What if you get abducted?”

“Mum.”

“Three weeks alone with your boyfriend is a long time…”

“Well, we won’t be alone, his friends will be there.”

“You know what I mean.” She sighs. “I really hate this whole you being an adult thing. I can’t really say no, you’re almost twenty years old, and it will be summer so you should take advantage and travel…” She takes a moment and looks at Y/N. “Could you go for two weeks instead of three? I think that’s plenty of time to spend together.”

“Yeah! I can definitely do that.” She smiles.

“And I’ll pay for half the ticket, that’ll be your birthday present. Your passport should still be good from high school.”

“Mum!” She squeals and hugs Angie. “Thank you so much, Harry’s going to be so excited!” She kisses her cheek. “I’m excited too, of course.”

“Well, I should hope so.” She chuckles, and they continue to close down the bar.

//

Y/N convinced Angie to drive her back to campus on Friday instead of Sunday. She dropped off all her things, and walked to Harry’s. She knocks on the door, and he opens it confused, but happy to see her.

“Hey!” He wraps his arms around her. “You’re back early.”

“Wanted to surprise you, can I come in?”

“Of course! Yeah, come on in.”

“Are you busy?”

“I was just working on a paper, but I can definitely take a break.” Hey both go up to his room, and he moves his things away from the bed so they can both sit. “Got a lot done this week, I’m feeling good.”

“That’s great! Okay, so, I have really good news that I’ve been keeping to myself because I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh? Please, do tell.” He grins.

“My mom said I could come to Italy this summer! Only for two weeks instead of three, but still.”

“That’s great!” He cups her jaw and pulls her in for a kiss. “We’re gonna have so much fun. I can show you what website to go on for the plane ticket, there’s this site that sells them for really cheap. I use it when I go home and stuff.”

“Sounds good, thanks. I think two weeks will be plenty, don’t you?”

“I mean, sure.” He shrugs.

“I wouldn’t want us getting on each other’s nerves being together 24/7.”

“We’ll be too busy to get on each other’s nerves, trust me. I can’t wait to tell my friends you’re coming, they’re dying to meet you.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. What are their names?”

“Well, Lou and Niall will be there, they came last year and are coming again. They go right from there to here for soccer. Then there’s my friend Adam, his dad is the one who owns the house, and Mike, Ben, and Clark.”

“Are any of them seeing someone?”

“Um, Adam brought a guy with him last summer, but they’re not dating anymore, so he may be going stag.” He shrugs. “When we were in high school we used to bring a lot of girls with us because we thought we were cool.” He laughs. “But Ben might bring someone, I’m not sure exactly. Sometimes we would just meet people in Italy to hang out with.”

“Hang out with.” She rolls her eyes. “Any Italian chicks I need to worry about.”

“Not that I can think of.” He taps his chin playfully. “You know me, I’m a real sexual deviant.” He says sarcastically and she nudges him. “Come here.”

He pulls her down to lay with him, and they both sigh. He rubs her back and she lays her leg over both of his, pressing into the bulge that’s growing in his pants. He tilts her chin up to look at him and she removes his glasses. He presses his lips to hers and she moves the rest of the way on top of him. He licks at her bottom lip, and she opens up for him. He has one arm wrapped around her back, and the other one around her ass, keeping her nice and close. Her fingers slot through his soft hair and she moans softly when she rolls hips her hips slowly on his.

“Missed you.” He says against her lips, taking her bottom lip between his teeth.

“Missed you too.” She whimpers as he presses his hips harder up towards hers.

Things started to get a little more heated from there, Y/N could feel her lips getting swollen from how hard her and Harry were kissing each other, and she was about ready to lose it in her pants from the way they were grinding on each other.

“Harry.” She groans. “Please.”

“Please what?” He moves her hair away from her neck and starts sucking on her soft skin.

“Can we please fuck?”

“Yes.”

He flips them over so she’s on her back, and he yanks her leggings and panties off in one swoop. She gets her shirt and bra off while he gets naked himself. He climbs back onto the bed and he wraps her legs around his waist. She slides her hands up and down his torso and chest.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your tattoos? Because I do, they’re so cool.” Her hands trace over the ferns on his hips.

“Thanks baby.” His hands knead her breasts.

Harry slides his hard dick over her folds and against her clit, causing her hips to buck up. He dips his head down to kiss on her neck and her hand wrap around his back, nails digging in.

“Do you wanna…put it in?”

She feels him nod his head yes, and before she knows it he’s pushing inside her. Her gasp turns into a moan. She bites down on his shoulder as he rocks in and out of her. He sucks on one of her nipples as he thrusts in and out.

“Feels so fucking good.” Her head rolls back into the pillows.

He pulls out and grins at her. She raises an eyebrow at him, and then he flips her over, pulls her up to her knees. She looks back at him as he slides in again. He gets an even pace going, and then he tugs her back to him, his chest flush with her back. He’s got one arm snaked around her, and the other rubbing slow circles on her clit.

“Fuck, oh my god.” Her head rolls back to his shoulder and she looks up at him. He slots his mouth over hers, and the both moan into each other.

“This why you wanted to come back early? Just really needed my cock?” He says into her ear and it has her pushing her ass against him.

“Thought about you every night.” She groans.

“Yeah? Did you bring home your little toys to help you out?”

“H-Harry, don’t-“

“Maybe I should use one on you sometime, would you like that?”

She was dripping all around his cock, she loved when he would just say whatever he wanted into her ear.

“Only wanna feel you.” She admits. It was true, she didn’t like having to use her vibrator, as good as it felt. She really just preferred Harry’s hands on her.

She feels him smile into her neck, knowing that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He picks up the pace on the way he’s rubbing her clit and he feels her squeeze around him. She hooks an arm up around his head to tug at his hair.

“Shit, Harry!” She cries out as she comes to her release.

He gently lets go of her so she can press her front to the mattress. He keeps his hands on her hips as he drives into her hard and fast. He had her panting, and he was panting too. He pulls out and comes on her ass and back before collapsing next to her.

“Fuck.” He breathes and then looks at her. “You have the most perfect ass I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Shut up.” She giggles.

“Let me clean you up.” He kisses her forehead and then gets up to grab a rag to wipe her clean.

“Thank you.”

He gets back onto the bed and pulls her close to him. They lay there naked for a bit, just enjoying the time skin to skin.

“Do you feel like having a little date night tonight since you’re here? We could go downtown for dinner and then come back to watch a movie in the living room.”

“I’d like that. I’d just wanna go home and change first.”

“Oh cute, then I can come pick you up.”

“Always the romantic.” She kisses his cheek and gets up to grab her clothes. “Give me, like, an hour to get ready, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me, see you soon.” He smiles and kisses her as she leaves his room.

Harry was really happy that Y/N came back a couple of days early. He was trying to play it a little more cool, but she was such a source of comfort for him. He had incorporated her into his routine, so when she wasn’t around he would get a little anxious, which he knew wasn’t healthy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now.

He puts on a green sweater with the black jeans he knows she likes, and puts his contacts in. He runs his hand through his hair a few times, getting his curls to sit just right. He knew he needed a haircut, but he also liked when Y/N would really tug on his hair. His logic was the longer his hair the better the grip she could get on him. He left the bit of scruff he had grown out and put on some cologne. He heads down the stairs to put his boots on and goes into the living room.

“Going on a date with my girl, mind if we have the living room when we get back? We’re gonna watch a movie. You can join if you want-“

“And watch the two of you make out?” Louis scoffs. “I’ll pass, mate.”

“Same here.” Niall chuckles. “But we can definitely clear out of here.”

“Thanks, I just get sick of watching stuff on my little laptop screen. Are you guys doing anything tonight?”

“Might go see some of the girls from the other international house. I don’t see myself staying out too late, I went a little too hard last night.” Louis says.

“Yeah, I spewed in the bushes, so I won’t be drinking tonight.” Niall says.

“Alright.” Harry chuckles. “Well, see you later.”

Harry makes the walk to Y/N’s apartment, and he knocks on the door when he gets there. His cheeks immediately blush when he sees her. She had a dark blue thing sweater dress on, showing off all her curves. She paired with some black boots and black tights, looking cuter than ever.

“You look so pretty.” He pouts at her and takes her hand.

“Thanks, thought I’d dress up a little It’s rare that we get to go on a real date.”

“I know! I’m really glad you came back a couple days early. Meant it when I said I missed you.”

“I meant it too.” She loops her arm through his so she can cling to him a little tighter.

The end up at the local bistro, even though Y/N told Harry it would be too expensive, but he assured her it was fine. She talks about her week working at the bar, and he talks about what he might do for work this summer.

“I could always go back to the bakery, but I really want to take the rest of the semester to figure out what I actually want to do. I might go see my advisor next week. I literally have zero idea what I want to do with my life.” He sighs and pops a fry into his mouth.

“Does anyone?” She laughs.

“Well, you sort of do. You’ve got a job lined up right away after graduation.”

“Yeah, working for my mom until she decides to retire really sounds great.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wanna take over the bar, but I wanna do it more in a way where like I could open up multiple locations, you know? I could oversee multiple businesses across the country.”

“Wow…that would be really cool.”

“It’s just an idea, I don’t know if it’ll ever happen. People like small town bars with good food, and that’s what my mom has, I think opening up multiple locations could work, it would just take a lot of marketing and PR. I may pick up a PR minor, the classes double count in my major and I think that may be what I’m a little more interested in these days.”

Harry loved listening to Y/N talk about her aspirations. She really was smart, and he didn’t think she gave herself enough credit.

“Are you not interested in the law stuff anymore?”

“I don’t know…” He sighs. “It’s just such a big commitment, you know? It’s more school, and then you basically have to study and pass the bar where you want to live, and I have no idea where I want to live. I don’t know if I wanna stay in the U.K. forever. I’ve barely been able to explore America while I’ve been here, and there are parts of Europe I’d like to go to. I don’t know, maybe I’ll become a travel blogger or something.” He jokes.

“You laugh, but you’d hit it big.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well…” She blushes. “You’re insanely hot, Harry, so you have that going for you. People would follow you on a superficial level, and then there’s the fact that you’re smart and nice. You could talk about the country or town you’re in and say what you really liked and what you discovered.”

“Not a very sustainable job though.”

“Have you ever thought about becoming a teacher? You’re really good at explaining things. You never once made me feel stupid last semester.”

“I think I’m better one on one. I feel like whenever I have to give a presentation I just word vomit. I’m also not on an education track, so again, more school. I ‘d need my master’s, and you need to take whatever tests there are in the state you want to work in, and that’s if I wanna stay in America. I don’t even know what I’d want to teach…”

“You could find a job like in a tutoring office like we have here. It takes someone really important to run those types of offices and-“

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Um…do you mind if we change the subject a little?” His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. “I know this stuff is important to talk through and figure out, but it’s making me anxious.”

“Oh!” She reaches across the table and puts her hand over his. “I’m so sorry, of course we can talk about something else, anything else.” She smiles. “What movie do you feel like watching later?”

They settled on The Devil Wears Prada. It was something they had both seen, so it didn’t matter if they paid attention or not.  His arm was around her and they were lounging comfortably.

“I really like this dress you’re wearing.”

“Yeah? Thought you preferred me in sweats.” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“You could wear a paper sack and I’d like it on you.” This makes her burst out laughing and he smiles down at her.

They both adjust so they can lay down, and he pulls her body on top of his. She sucks on his bottom lip, and his hands slide down to her ass. His tongue drags of hers and she moans into his mouth.

“You’ll stay tonight?” He whispers. “Missed having you to hold onto at night.”

“Of course I’ll stay.” She stays. “No one else I’d rather have cuddles with.” She kisses on his jaw and moves to his neck.

“Leave a good one on me babe, mark me up.”

Y/N bites down decently hard on Harry’s neck and it makes him grit his teeth and squeeze at her harder, but god did it feel good. Truth be told one of his regular tutees flirted with him a lot, and even though he had mentioned Y/N over and over, she would still flirt with him. A nice new hickey may help her get the picture. Also, Harry just really liked getting them. He liked giving them too, but they just felt so fucking good.

//

“Did you have a nice break, Harry?”

“Yeah, Bri, thanks, did you?”

“Mhm, I got caught up on some things, but I’m definitely still struggling with Intro to Gen Psych…”

“Alright, well, let’s look at your notes from class.”

She reaches into her bag, and when she gets everything out, she notices Harry taking his jacket and scarf off. Her eyes bug out when she sees the giant welt on Harry’s neck. Now, normally he would want to be more professional, but at the end of the day, he was twenty and didn’t give a fuck.

“Everything alright?”

“Um…y-yeah, everything’s fine? Did you, um, go out over the weekend?”

“I did, yeah. Went to a party with some friends Saturday night. My girlfriend came back a couple days early too, that was nice.” He smiles and grabs her notes. “See, I think if you highlighted within your notes, like we’ve talked about, you would have an easier time finding things.”

“Right, um, sorry, Harry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” He furrows his brows at her. “I already passed this class, it’s you who still needs to finish it. Tutoring can help a lot, but if you don’t take what we do here and apply it elsewhere, you’re not going to see any improvements.”

He was close to her, showing her what she should highlight, and it made her nervous, but in the best possible way. All of a sudden they hear some giggling, and it was a giggle Harry knew all too well. They both look up and see a good chunk of the hockey team. Many of the girls still got together to study like they would during the season.

“Oh, shit, is that Harry?!” Megan says. “Ow ow! Look at him on the clock.” She teases.

“Leave him alone.” Y/N swats a hand at her, and looks over to Harry, mouthing I’m sorry. He waves at them and gives them a half smile.

“Damn, Y//N, I would have tried to fuck my tutor too if it were him.” Another girl teases her and they all start laughing.

“Hey, uh,” Harry turns around in his chair and smirks, “we’re in a library, ladies.”

“Is that so?” Y/N struts over to him and looks at Bri. “Careful with him, he’s a little too good at his job.” She kisses Harry’s cheek and then goes off with the girls to the back of the library.

“Sorry about that, Bri.” Harry chuckles.

“So…that was your girlfriend?”

“Mhm.” He smiles proudly. “Now then,” he clears his throat, “let’s talk more about your note taking, shall we?”

//

It was hard enough saying goodbye to Ashley, Megan, and some of the other seniors on the team, but it was just about move out day, and Y/N cried every time she thought about not being able to just walk down a couple of streets to see Harry.

“We’ll see each other before you know it, and when we do we’ll have two weeks of perfect weather in Italy together.” He says as he holds her close to him in bed.

“I know, I’m just really sad.” She cries into his chest and he tries his best to soothe her.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N, you’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “I don’t mean to be like this. The time difference just sucks, Harry.”

“I know.” He sighs.

“And you won’t even get to see me for my birthday.” It was in a couple of weeks.

“But we already sort of celebrated, remember the big party we had here last weekend?”

“How could I forget? You made me margaritas all night, and then fucked my brains out.” She chuckles and so does he. “Couldn’t walk right for two days.”

“Cause I know you like it like that.” He kisses the top of her head. “Look, I’m gonna miss you too. It’s not easy being away from your favorite person, but we’ll make it work. It’ll just make things better when we see each other again. I do have one favor, though?”

“What?” She looks up at him.

“You’ll have to leave lots of marks on me, really good ones, so that they’ll just barely have faded by the time I see you. The only thing is, my mum will be pissed if she sees my neck like that, you’ll have to be creative about where you put them.”

“Challenge accepted.” She gives him a devious smile and sinks down under his covers. Thank god Harry had an a/c in his room.

“What are you…oh!” He starts laughing when he feels her suck on his inner thigh, like he would normally do to her. “Why did you tell me this tickled so much?!” He rips the blanket away to look down at her.

“It doesn’t tickle when you do it to me.” She pouts up at him. She moves to kiss on his hip and then things feel less funny.

“Yeah, I like it when you do it there.”

She kisses up his chest and sucks a nice, dark mark on one of his pecs and then smiles up at him. Her eyes start to water again and she hides her face in his neck.

“What happened?”

“We’re not going to be able to do this whenever we want soon, and it just…” She cries into him again.

“Baby.” He coos. “Let’s just enjoy right now, yeah?” He rubs her back. “Want me to make love to you? Be all sweet and slow?”

“Mhm.” She says, muffled from the way she’s pressing further into him.

“Alright.” He rolls them both over and runs his fingers over her folds. Yes, they were both already naked.

He slides his middle finger inside her slowly, working his way in and out, sucking on her nipple as he does so. This helps her to calm down just like he was hoping. He sucks his finger into his mouth when he’s done and then rubs his hard dick against her clit. She groans and then he slips inside. He hides his face in her neck so he can kiss on her while he rocks in and out. They both just wanted to be as close as possible right now.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He moves to look at her and she puts her hands on his shoulders.

“When you get close, will you please come inside me?” She looks so innocent right now.

“If I say yes will you promise to tell me when you get your period?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, baby, I’ll come inside you when the time comes.”

She pulls his face down to hers to kiss him. Things are slow and sloppy and just perfect. He rubs her clit to help her along and she cries out as she comes. She nearly comes again when she feels him fill her up. It was the first time he had ever come inside her without a condom, and it felt so fucking good.

“I love you so much.” He says to her as he pulls out.

“I love you too.” She clamps her legs together to try not to make a mess on his bed, and she stands up. She throws on one of his shirts before heading to the bathroom.

They snuggle all night, and most of the morning. Harry helps her pack up her apartment, and he waits with her for Angie to come pick her up. It was a really difficult goodbye, but Harry tried to stay strong for the both of them. Of course the second the car pulled away he started crying. He calmed himself down, though. They would call, text, and FaceTime. Thank god she was coming to Italy.

//

“Shit.” Y/N says to herself.

“What?” Julie asks coming into her room.

“According to my pills, I’m going to have my period when I’m in Italy.” She groans.

“So?”

“So?! I’m gonna be swimming and stuff.”

“Just use a tampon.”

“I’m going to be with mostly boys, and I have zero idea if it’s a fancy boat with a bathroom on it. I’ll only have it a few days, but still. Fuck, and I’ll probably have it right when I first see Harry.”

“Do you guys not…do it when you have your period?”

“Don’t be gross.”

“It’s a valid question!”

“We did, like, once in the shower, but it sort of hurts, so it I didn’t like it and we didn’t do it again.” She sighs. “I miss him so much, I don’t think I’ll care when I finally see him.”

“Show me the new bathing suits you got.”

“Hey.” Cooper comes into the room as well and just stands there, munching on some chips.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“M’bored.”

“Wanna look at my new bathing suits?”

“Alright, yeah.”

//

“You have WhatsApp?”

“Already downloaded.”

“And you’ll text me updates, and you will take a picture of you and Harry together so I know you’re really with him?”

“Yes, mum! Please, I need to go get through security. I love you, and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“I love you too, have a great time.”

Y/N gets through security, and texts Harry and her mom updates. She had the window seat so she was able to get comfortable for her long flight. She wanted to look cute and refreshed, so she gets up to change in the bathroom of the plane. She puts on a pair of high-waist jean shorts, and a black crop top. Her hair is down, but she ties a bandana he had given to her in it, and touched up her makeup. She was feeling really good, despite being in the middle of her period. At least it would end in a day or so.

The flight lands on time, and Y/N texts Harry and her mom that she’s landed. She gets her backpack on, and manages to follow the signs to baggage. Luckily there were a lot of signs in English. Harry had “tutored” her a bit in Italian this summer, so she wasn’t totally lost. As she approaches baggage she squints when she sees three guys who look very familiar.

“Oi! There she is!” Louis says and Harry turns around, beaming at Y/N.

She runs towards him and jumps into his arms, wrapping all of her limbs around him. He looked so fucking good in his little shorts and t-shirt and tanned skin. Their lips collide and they almost forget their in the airport.

“I hate to break this up, but which bags are yours, pet?” Niall asks.

“Oh! The floral ones!” She points to them as they come off the belt. Harry sets her down and he grabs her bags. She gives Niall and Louis a hug as well. “Now, if we let you two sit in the back of the car together, do you promise to hold off on the groping?” He teases them as they walk out to the parked cars.

“Think I can behave myself for a bit, yeah, Y/N?”

“I’ll do my best.” She giggles. “How far away are we form the house?”

“Bout an hour, not too far.” Harry says. “We’re having dinner on the boat tonight, you’ll love it. Fresh steamers, you like those, right?”

“Love ‘em.” She smiles.

He puts his arm around her and keeps her close as Louis drives back to the house. She switches her gaze from Harry to out the window, unsure of what she preferred to soak up in the moment. Harry had a lovely tan, his hair was a tad shorter, but not by much, and he had definitely been trying to grow out his scruff. He was handsome as ever.

“You look really cute.” He whispers in her ear and it sends a shiver up her spine. “Is that the bandana I gave you?”

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him. “I wear it all the time at work.”

“Good, it suits you.”

They pull up to the house in what feels like no time at all, and Y/N’s jaw drops as she gets out of the car. It was beautiful, and private. There was a path to a private dock where the boat was, and there were a couple of other guys outside.

“I’m just gonna show Y/N to our room, and then we’ll come down for dinner.” Harry tells Niall and Louis as they make their way to the boat.

“Our room, huh?” Y/N smirks up at Harry as he carries her bags in. He stops short and looks at her.

“Shit, uh, did…fuck, did you not want to stay with me? I think we can-“

“Harry!” She laughs. “Jesus, I was kidding, why would I come all this way and not sleep in a bed with you?”

“I…don’t do that.” He side eyes her as they both go inside. She shakes her head at.

“Wow…even more beautiful on the inside.” She looks around.

He hums his response and gestures to follow him upstairs. There were a lot of bedrooms, both on the main level and second level of the home. Harry was the only one to bring a date this summer, so his friends granted him the privilege of the bedroom with the en suite bath.

“Here we are, love.” He puts her bags down and closes the door behind them. He lets her look around for a moment. She peeps her head into the bathroom and then she smiles at him.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe I’m really here.

“Me neither.” He cups her jaw and kisses her. She wraps her arms around his waist as he licks into her mouth. “Missed you, baby.”

“Missed you too.” He bites down on her bottom lip, and his hands start to slide farther south, but she stops him. “We can’t.”

“Dinner can wait.”

“No, I mean…I need two more days.”

“What?”

“I have my period, but it should be done soon. I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He sighs. “Better to have it now than later when we’re camping, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles and kisses him again.

“Besides, we’ve got that nice big shower.” He winks at her, and then leads her out of the bedroom.

He keeps his hand on the small of her back as they walk down the dock to the boat. She could already smell the seafood.

“Shit!” She stops short. “We have to take a selfie to send to my mom, she wanted proof I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“Alright.” He chuckles. She takes her phone out to snap the quick photo, and then they continue onto the boat. “Oi! Can I get everyone’s attention, thank you.” All of the boys look at Harry and Y/N. “Clark, Adam, Ben, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Hi.” She says shyly.

“Don’t look like a hockey player to me.” Ben says, jokingly. “Nice to meet you, finally.” He extends his hand and she shakes it.

“Don’t be fooled, she can really pack a punch.” Harry says, sitting down.

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N.” Adam says, giving her a hug. “Hope you don’t mind being with a bunch of guys for the next couple of weeks.”

“It’s not a problem.” She smiles.

“Harry’s told us a lot about you.” Clark says, shaking her hand. “Nice to actually see you in person. Harry’s always sending us pictures of you.”

Y/N turns to look at Harry, giving him a face.

“All tasteful, I promise. Come here.” He pulls her to sit on his lap. “How’s dinner coming along?”

“The steamers have just about popped.” Adam says. “We’ve also got crab legs. Do you like all that, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I love seafood, thank you.”

“Alright, now that we don’t need to drive anywhere else,” Niall starts. “can we get to drinking?”

“Read my mind.” Ben says, getting up to pull the cooler of beer over. “Do you like beer, Y/N? We have other drinks if you don’t.”

“Beer’s great, thanks.” She smiles and leans forward to grab one for her and Harry. “I guess this is my first legal drink, that’s sorta cool.”

“That’s right! You don’t have to second guess a thing here.” Harry says, cracking his beer open. They all clink their cans together and take a sip.

Adam brings the pig pot of steamers up from below deck, and Clark brings out the crab legs and butter. Louis helps with the cocktail sauce and plates. Everyone takes what they want and dig in.

“Mm, these are delicious.” Y/N says. “Thanks so much for making all this.”

“We thought your arrival would be the perfect night to do this, so thank you.” Adam says.

“So, you three have known Harry since high school?”

“Well, we call it secondary school.” Ben says. “But yeah, think you and Adam have known each other the longest though.” Harry nods his head. “We became pretty good mates after a school camping trip.”

“I think we started coming here when we were sixteen?” Clark looks at Adam.

“I’d say so, yeah. My dad’s had this house a while. I think sixteen is when he trusted us enough to come here a lone. Lotta good summers here.”

“How did you two meet again? You had a class together?” Ben asks.

“Nope, she needed a tutor.” Harry says.

“Mhm, and lucky me, I got paired up with the most studious one of them all.”

“H really is a bit serious, isn’t he?” Clark teases.

“Gotta be serious to get good grades.”

“So, how did Harry get all these tattoos, I’m not seeing many on you.” She says to three of them.

“That would be me, love.” Louis says. “You didn’t get them all with me, but I feel like freshman year we were constantly driving out to the tattoo shop.”

“Once I got one I couldn’t stop.” Harry says. “I went with these guys to get a few more, the ones on my arms. My mum was pissed.”

“Didn’t you say she nearly fainted when she saw the butterfly?” Clark asks with a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s why I got so many on my stomach in the first place so she wouldn’t see, but it was inevitable.” He shrugs. “Think I’m due for a new one while we’re here, I’d say.” He looks at his right arm. “Not sure where though.” He laughs.

“You should get a mate for your mermaid.” Niall jokes.

“She’s an independent woman, she’s all set.”

Everyone laughs and continues to enjoy their food. They all help clean up and enjoy more drinks by the fire pit after the sun goes down fully. Y/N was having difficulty staying awake. She was up early, had that long flight, and she really just wanted to shower and go to bed.

“Would you care if I went in?” She says to him. “Think I’m ready to for a shower, and I wanna unpack a bit.”

“Sure! Yeah, I’ll head in with you in a minute.”

“Okay.” She stands up. “Night everyone, thanks for a great first say.” She smiles and then heads inside.

“She’s really nice, H.” Adam says. “I like her a lot already.”

“Thanks.” Harry smiles. “I like her a lot too.” He stands up and heads up to their shared bedroom.

“You could have stayed outside if you wanted, I’m just getting my things settled.”

“I know…I thought you might need help with the shower.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I probably could have figure it out.” She smirks at him.

“Well, maybe I need a shower too. Been outside all day, after all.” He steps closer to her and she can feel her cheeks heating up.

“Harry…I…I want to, but…” She bites her bottom lip. “Last time we tried to do it on my period it really hurt, and I didn’t like it as much as I may have led on.”

“You didn’t fake it did you?”

“No! I came, but…it just wasn’t super comfortable. I really wanna be close with you, I just need a couple more days, and then you can pound me into the mattress for all I care.” Harry chuckles at her statement and he nods.

“Well, can we still shower together without the funny business? I just really missed you.”

“Yeah, just give me a minute in there alone, you know the drill.”

He nods and watches her walk into the en suite with her toiletry bag. She gets the water going, and steps in, opting to get her hair wet to give it a good wash. She calls for him once she feels secure enough, and he comes in right away. They look at each other for a moment, and then he crashes his mouth to hers, pushing her against the wall. Her hands fly to his hair and she moans into his mouth at the feeling of his hard dick pressed against her hip. His tongue glides against her as he gropes her breast with one hand and her ass with the other. He detaches his lips from hers to get some air, and immediately starts sucking on her neck.

“Th-thought you said no funny business.” She manages to get out.

“I don’t find any of this funny, do you?” He says lowly into her ear.

“No.” She breathes and he continues his attack on her neck.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything you don’t wanna do.” He pulls away from her slightly. “I just couldn’t help myself when I walked in here, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She pulls him back, pressing their fronts together. “I really missed you too.”

After some more passionate kisses, they clean themselves up and get out of the shower. Harry leaves her so she has some privacy putting her underwear on. She runs the blow dryer through her quickly so it’s not sopping wet before coming to bed. She throws on a large t-shirt, and Harry can’t help but smile as he watches his cute girlfriend crawl into the large bed with him.

“So, are you not able to swim? We were hoping to take the boat out tomorrow.”

“Does the boat have a bathroom?”

“It does! It’s small, but functional.”

“Then I can definitely go swimming.” She smiles and cozies up to him. She sighs happily. “I really missed this.”

“Me too.” He looks down at her. “I think I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

She pouts up at him and slots her mouth over his. It felt so good to just be able to kiss and touch how they pleased. FaceTiming was great and all, but always left them with a sense of wanting and yearning. The physical touch was something they both craved from the other.

//

The morning sun creeps into the bedroom, causing Y/N’s eyes to flutter open. She feels like she’s in a dream, but things become real when she feels Harry’s arms around her and his pelvis pressing into her ass. She thinks to maybe take care of him, offer up a hand job or something, but before she can he’s peppering kisses to the back of her neck and then getting out of bed.

“Ready to start the day?” He yawns. “We gotta pack up everything we wanna eat for the day. There’s a mini kitchen below deck, which is nice. I stalked up on some things I know you like from the store.”

“Thank you.” She smiles as he walks into the bathroom. Y/N gets up and stretches a bit. She scowls when she feels a cramp roll through her lower body. She grabs her pills and swallows. She was on the first week of her new pack. “One more day and you’re gone.” She says to herself.

“Are you talking to your period?” Harry chuckles as he comes out of the bathroom.

“Maybe.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Just started my new pack of pills, should definitely be over by tomorrow.”

“No worries.” He kisses her cheek and goes into the drawer for his swim trunks and a white t-shirt.

“Should I pack other clothes to change into?”

“Nah, we’ll come back here and get cleaned up. I think we’re gonnna go to a bar tonight, should be fun.”

Y/N nods and searches for one of her new bathing suits. She snatches and goes into the bathroom. She hated using tampons, especially this late in her period because things just felt uncomfortably dry, but it wasn’t like she could wear a pad with her bottoms, so this is what she needs to do. Once that’s all situated, she puts her hair up into a messy bun, and slides her bottoms on. They were navy blue, not super high waist, but not super low cut either, mid-rise. She grabs her top, and struggles with getting the back tied. It was a really cute floral string top that matched perfectly with the bottoms.

“Har?” She calls from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He peeps his head in carefully.

“Could you tie the back of this for me please?”

“Um…sure.” He swallows as he steps closer to her and ties the back of the top. “Is that good?”

She looks in the mirror and adjusts her breasts.

“Yeah, should be alright, thank you.”

“That’s a really nice bathing suit.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “I just got it, I wanted to have some cute ones for the trip.” Her breasts giggle as she lets them go, and he can’t help but watch.

“Thought you might wear a one piece or something.” He says as he follows her out of the bathroom.

“I can’t really wear those, my torso is long, and they make them way too high cut, it’s not cute on me.” She puts on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top over her bathing suit and smiles at him. “You’ve got sunscreen and all that?”

“Yeah.”

Harry knew he didn’t need to worry about Louis, Niall, or Adam really looking at Y/N. It was Ben and Clark. As good of friends as they were, and they were just as respectful as Harry was, he knew they would still look and gawk at her. He had zero control over it, and that’s the part he hated.

The kitchen smells like fresh coffee, and Harry can hear Y/N giggling as Ben pours her a cup and gives her some creamer. Here we go, Harry thinks to himself.

“Here, Harry.” Louis says, handing him a cup of black coffee.

“Thanks.” He smiles and takes it from him.

“Sleep well, Y/N?” Clark asks.

“Better than I have in weeks, yeah.” She looks at Harry and he looks at her.

“Alrighty then.” Adam says. “Well, I’ve got most of the coolers packed, got all the sunscreen we could need. I figure we could grill on the boat for lunch later. Sound good with everyone?” Everyone hums in agreement. “Perfect, let’s head out.”

Y/N puts her sunglasses on and goes outside with everyone. She sits down on the boat and watches all the boys while they work to get going. It was quite a sight to see Harry maneuvering the different ropes. Adam drives the boat out, and Harry plops down next to Y/N.

“He’s gonna take us out to this sand bar where other boats anchor. It’s a lot of fun, just swimming around, doing nothing. You can lay out on the other end too, work on your tan.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“Mhm.” He smiles. “I love sitting out in the sun.”

“Me too. It’s been great working at the bar because I can go to the beach during the day with my friends and stuff, and then just go in at night.”

“How’s the gang doing?”

“Oh, they’re great. Max has a girlfriend, and she’s really nice. She came to visit for a weekend to meet all of us.”

Harry felt slightly relieved knowing that Max was seeing someone. He never brought his uneasiness about him to Y/N, and right now he was especially glad he didn’t.

“That’s nice.” He kisses her cheek.

Once the boat is anchored at the sandbar, Y/N takes her cover up off along with the boys. Having basically grown up in a locker room, Y/N wasn’t really nervous to be so exposed around friends. If they hadn’t seen a boob or a butt cheek by now then that was on them. She takes a few photos on her phone. The view was incredible, and she felt so lucky to be there. Harry comes up from behind her and gives her a squeeze.

“Would you help me with the sunscreen?” He asks.

“Of course!” She sprays it all over him and rubs it in on his back and shoulders. “Do me?”

He nods and does the same for her, making sure to get under her straps so she wouldn’t be splotchy. They hear a few splashes. Louis, Niall, and Clark all jumping in.

“The water’s so warm!” Niall shouts to everyone still aboard.

“I’m not quite ready to go in yet.” Y/N whispers to Harry.

“You don’t have to…here.” He grabs a towel from a bag. “Lay out on this, I’m just gonna go in for a quick dip and then I’ll join you.” He smiles and kisses the tip of her nose.

“M’surprised she’s not right in here with you.” Louis says as Harry swims over to them.

“She…uh…well, she’s got her period.” He whispers. “So I think she’s trying to hold off on going in for a bit.”

“Ah, say no more.” Louis says.

“That’s gotta be so annoying.” Niall says. “Did it just start?”

“No, she said it should end tomorrow, so she just needs to tough it out today.”

“We should have gone to the shops then…” Louis says.

“It’s alright, she can still swim, she just doesn’t want to have to deal with, uh, changing yet I think.”

“Changing what?” Clark asks.

“Her…you know.” Harry says, blushing. “Ugh, can we not talk about this actually?”

“Talk about what?” Ben asks as he swims towards them.

“Nothing.” Harry, Niall, and Louis all say at the same time.

They all hear Y/N laughing from the boat. Adam is sitting next to her on the deck.

“Look, Adam has someone to have girl talk with, this’ll be perfect.” Ben says.

“Oi.” Harry splashes him. “Don’t say shit like that. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s girly. We all paint our nails and wear jewelry for Christ’s sake, we’re not all exactly following gender norms here.”

“Okay, okay, fuck.” Ben laughs and splashes Harry back.

After his quick dip, Harry joins Y/N on the deck to lay out. She looked perfect to him. Laying on her stomach, he could see the cute curve of her bum. He lays down on a towel next to her, and boops her nose as she turns to look at him.

“How was the water?”

“Nice and warm, ready whenever you are.”

“Sun feels good.” She yawns.

“Good.” He smiles at her. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Y/N ends up falling asleep for a bit, which Harry thinks is the cutest thing in the world. He nudges her awake, though, and hands her a bottle of water. She shits up and happily takes it.

“Think I’m ready to go in now, I’m hot.”

“Okay.”

He leads her down to where the latter is, and helps her in by giving her a piggy back ride. She warned him that she wasn’t the strongest swimmer before the trip. Luckily, she could easily stand about belly button deep.

“Y/N, catch!” Niall tosses her a tennis ball, and she catches it.

Adam was hanging out on a float nearby with Ben, and Clark was talking with Louis about some soccer player. Y/N, Harry, and Niall get into a game of catch with the tennis ball. Once noon hits, someone has the brilliant idea to start drinking. Y/N goes up on deck with Harry and she pulls him aside.

“Would you come to the bathroom with me?” She whispers as she grabs her beach bag.

“Yeah.”

He leads her below deck and shows her the bathroom. She asks him to just wait outside and guard the door while she’s in there. He hears her grunt painfully before hearing the sink. She comes out with sigh.

“Alright?”

“Yeah…it just…ugh, it’s just annoying. It’s fine.” She takes a moment to look around. “It’s like a little apartment down here, it’s nice.”

“Yeah, the couch turns into a pull out, it’s pretty cool. We’ve all slept out on the boat before. One summer when there was a lot of us someone just used it as a spare room.”

“Who wants vodka?” Adam asks.

“Me!” Y/N says as her and Harry come back up. “Any soda or anything to go with it?”

“Cranberry juice.” Harry says with a grin and Y/N smiles wider.

Ben fires up the grill while everyone starts to drink. It was a delicious lunch that Y/N was grateful for. Everyone was getting a little tipsy, which resulted in Harry (and others) doing a backflip off the deck and into the water. Y/N had no idea Harry would even do that. He must really be letting loose.

Once everyone sobered up a bit, Adam drives the boat back to the house. It was the perfect day in the sun, but Y/N couldn’t wait to shower off all the sunscreen.

“Do you guys wanna, like, chill for a little while? I could use a nap, honestly.” Clark says. “We won’t be heading to the club until midnight so I’d rather sleep and then have a late dinner.”

“Agreed.” Niall says. “I’m exhausted.”

“Midnight?” Y/N says to Harry as they go up to their room.

“Yeah, things are open later here so we go out later. We’ll pregame and stuff like normal, but it’s sort of lame to be the first ones at a club.”

“Right.” She chuckles. “Well, I am in desperate need of a shower.”

“Alright, I suppose I’ll be a gentleman and let you go first.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“You can come in with me.”

“If I do that I’m gonna need to fuck you, Y/N.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve looked so sexy all day.” He plays with the strap on the top of her bathing suit. “Don’t have much self-control left.”

“I’ll just, um, go in alone then.” She swallows.

She really wanted to have sex with Harry, but it just wasn’t time yet. She takes a quick shower, and he follows in shortly after her. She didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, but she put a pad on anyways and a large t-shirt. She sinks into the pillows on the bed and waits for Harry.

“Think I need a nap too.” He yawns. “Swimming and day drinking really tires you out.”

“Yeah.” She laughs and opens her arms for him. He rests his head on her chest and gets comfy.

“This is the best.”

“Absolutely.” She plays with his damp hair and he feels like he’s going to melt into her.

“Oh!” He sits up abruptly and looks at her. “I had an epiphany the other night with the guys.”

“About what?”

“What I might like to do after graduation. We were sitting smoking and it just came to me.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you were smoking?” She sits up with a surprised look on her face.

“I don’t do it during the school year because sometimes I wig out, but I was fine the other night. Anyways, do you wanna hear what I wanna do?”

“Of course, lay it on me.”

“Human Resources.”

“What about it?”

“That’s what I want to do, Y/N! I all of these ethics classes would really prepare me for that field, and I could literally work anywhere. I’d probably have to start out doing some customer service work and then slowly work my way up, but I think I could be good at it.”

“You wanna deal with sexual harassment stuff?”

“That’s not the only thing that HR reps do, there’s payroll, workplace compliance with dress code and safety. I’d be like Toby from The Office, only cool.”

Y/N smiles and giggle for a moment.

“Well, you’re clearly excited about it, so I think it’s great. Course, I think you’d be good at anything you set your mind to.”

“Thanks, babe. I know it sounds like a boring job, but I don’t think it has to be. Plus, you can make a fuck ton of money.”

“Is that the most important thing to you?”

“No, I suppose being happy is, but a decent salary would be nice too.”

“You’d probably have to wear a suit every day.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Mhm, probably.”

“Sexiest HR rep in the history of HR reps.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss her. She pulls him on top of her, but keeps her legs closed. After a quick make out session, they decide just to cuddle and snooze for a bit. Harry wakes up to a lack of warmth. He sits up when he doesn’t feel Y/N next to him. She comes out of the bathroom and looks at him.

“What time is it?” He knuckles at his eyes.

“A little after six. What do you think we’re doing for dinner?”

“Ben said he’d make fresh pasta.” Harry yawns and stretches. “It’s his turn to cook.” He gives her a kiss on the cheek before looking for some clothes.

“What should I wear tonight? I have this cute red dress…” She pulls it out of the closet and his eyes grow wide. He puts his glasses on so he can see better.

“That’s…wow, yeah, that’ll look great on you.”

“I really like the cut out on the front. I’ll just put some shorts and a t-shirt on for now. No use in getting ready yet.”

“Right.”

Harry just throws on a pair of shorts and looks at her.

“Must be nice to just walk around shirtless all the time. Wish I could do the same.”

“Well, you could, but I wouldn’t feel terribly comfortable with all of the guys ogling you.” He smirks and she nudges him out of the room.

“Something smells good!” She says as she sees Ben over the stove. “You really made fresh pasta?”

“Yup, and meatballs. Mum’s recipe.”

Y/N was amazed at seeing so many guys just being domestic. Her freshman year of college she had made friends with a few guys on the men’s hockey team and their apartment was always gross. They never did their laundry and always ordered takeout. This was one of the things Y/N really liked about Harry. He was clean and respectful, and it was nice to see he surrounded himself with similar people.

“Oh my fucking god.” She moans as she takes a bit of the food. “That’s delicious.”

“Thanks.” Ben beams. “Hear that, mate, she likes my cooking.”

“Don’t get too cocky, she likes mine plenty, right?” Harry says to her.

“Of course, babe.”

“Babe.” Adam and Clark say together lovingly.

“Enough teasing.” Harry points his knife at them. “Get enough of it from these two at school.”

“Please, we hardly tease you.” Louis scoffs.

“You did when we first started going out, it was so annoying.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“You teased him?” Y/N looks at Louis and Niall. “Not very nice boys.” She shakes her head as she takes another bite.

“It was all in good fun.” Niall says.

After cleaning up dinner, the drinks come back out and everyone does shots of tequila. This was what Y/N had been missing. Just hanging out with people her own age without any parents around.

“Wait, so I need to ask.” Clark starts. “Why hockey?”

“I was too aggressive for soccer and lacrosse. No padding.” She takes another shot and sucks on a lime.

“Jesus.” Adam says. “Why were you so aggressive?”

“I had a lot of, um, pent up anger from my parent’s split…we had to see, um, well it was suggested to me that I try hockey. I already knew how to skate, so it wasn’t difficult for me to pick up.”

“She’s brilliant on the ice.” Harry says, putting an arm around her. “I bet you’ll be captain senior year.”

“Do you have siblings, do they play sports?” Ben asks.

“My younger sister does theater, she’s going to this school…um…AMDA in New York this fall, I’m really excited for her, she’s very talented. My little brother plays hockey too…for the same reasons. At least the boys get to hit each other.” She scoffs. “If there had been a female football league I think I would have done that, but it didn’t exist so hockey it was. Besides, I really do just love it. My mom was able to send me to hockey camp a couple times, and I got to meet some nice people that I still stay in touch with. It’s just a great sport.”

Pregaming was good, but it was getting to be time to change. Y/N takes her hair out of its bun and shakes it out. She had some nice beach waves from earlier. She touches up her makeup, and slips into her dress. It was tight, red, and had a cutout just below her breasts. It wasn’t something she wore often, but she thought a club in Italy would be a perfect occasion. She slips her white tennis shoes on, ever the practical person. Harry feels the wind get knocked out of him when she steps out of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too shabby himself. A white, silk short-sleeve shirt with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of black shorts. He looks her up and down after putting his contacts in.

“Jesus.”

“Isn’t it cute?” She spins around for him.

“Very.” He puts his hands on her hips. “Do we need to leave?”

“Harry.” She giggles. “We can get frisky when we get back.”

“Does that mean-“

“Mhm.” She winks at him.

The boys were all dressed and ready, and a few paid some compliments to Y/N. Harry keeps his arm around her as they walk to the downtown area. They’re able to get into the club with ease, and they all go up to the bar. The bartender gives Y/N’s hers on the house and she smiles.

The music was good, they all dance as a group, but Harry dances behind Y/N with his hands on her hips, which she didn’t mind one bit. His friends had seen him dance with plenty of girls, it wasn’t awkward or anything. They all drank a fuck ton as the night went on. Y/N was loving having her dance partner back. Her head was rolled back onto Harry’s chest while they grind together. He turns her around and pulls her close so he can kiss her, tongue immediately going into her mouth. She wraps her arms around his neck and tugs him as close as they could possibly be. This kiss is hot and forceful. Her fingers lace through his hair.

“Fuck.” He breathes. “Need to get you out of here.” He nearly growls. Y/N nods her head, too frazzled to speak.

Harry finds Adam and lets him know they’re leaving. They both walk quickly, hand in hand, out of the club. The walk back to the house felt like any other time they left a party to go get busy. They giggle and stop to steal kisses until they get to where they need to be. He gets her inside and lifts her over his shoulder.

“Harry!” She squeals.

“Shh, some of the boys could have brought people back.” He gives her bum a little smack as he carries her up the stairs. She laughs, but does as he says to try to stay quiet.

He gets them both on the bed, and she straddles him immediately, her hair falling into her face as she sucks on his bottom lip. He helps move it out of the way, and this his hand slide down her body to grope and squeeze at her ass. She rocks her lips against his, and at this point it just feels torturous for them both. He grabs her hips and gets her on her back.

“You’re really all good?”

“Mhm.”

He lifts the hem of her dress and bunches it up by her hips. His mouth falls open when he sees the red thong she had paired with the dress.

“You’re the devil.” He says, kissing her lips as he pets over her. “You’re good, you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, so okay with it, please.” She nearly whines.

He moves the thin material to the side, and slides two of his fingers inside her. They swallow each other’s moans. He uses his other hand to yank her breasts out of the top of her dress, something she wasn’t expecting, and then he sucks on one of her nipples while he fingers her. Her back arches when his fingers curl up against her g-spot.

“There we are.” He smirks. “Like that, baby girl?”

“Yeah, just like that, Harry.” Her head rolls back into the pillow. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god.” She moans.

“That’s it, let it all out for me.”

He was knuckle deep, and she couldn’t control any of the noises leaving her mouth. She cries out when she comes to her release. He gives her moment before pulling his fingers out. She looks up at him.

“Get your clothes off, now.” She demands.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, saluting her and getting up.

She helps him get his shirt off, attaching her lips to his stomach and sucking on his special spots. His hips buck forward. He tugs her dress off, and his pants drop to the ground at the same time. She wiggles out of her thong, and Harry rids himself of his boxers.

“Really wanna feel you, can we do that?” She pouts at him.

“Yeah.”

She pins him down and straddles him, lining herself up with him and sinking down. They both let out throaty moans at the contact.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He groans as he rocks her back and forth on him.

“Been too long without you.” She starts bouncing up and down on him slowly, and he rubs her clit. “Fuck, Harry.” She squeezes around him.

“Come as many times as you want, don’t hold back.” He says, rubbing her faster.

Her body falls on his and she cries out into his neck. He helps her move back and forth on him as she comes to. She knew she was overly sensitive from having not been touched by him in two months. He looks at her and opens his mouth. Her eyebrows raise, but then she remembers what he wants her to do. She wells up some spit and lets it drip slowly from her tongue to his. He swallows it and smiles up at her. A hand goes to the back of her head, and he yanks her face down to his so he can kiss her. Their tongue move around each other as he thrusts up into her.

“Need it from behind.” He says against her mouth.

She gets off him and gets in position for him. He gives her a gentle smack before sliding back in. His hands grip at her hips as he thrusts in and out.

“Gonna fuck you every day for the next two weeks, as many times as you want. You just say the word, and it’ll be just like this.”

“Fuck, Harry.” His words alone were going to make her lose it again.

“Don’t care where we are, if you want my cock, my mouth, my fingers, you’ve got it.”

She moans out as she comes again, and he loves the way she tightens around him, but he’s trying to hold on a little longer. He hadn’t fucked her in so long, and even though he knew they could do it again, he just wanted to enjoy the initial moment a little longer. He pulls out of her and gets her on her back, and in he goes once against. He takes her hands and pins them on either side of her head. He kisses her as he rocks in and out.

“H-Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, baby, I love you too.” He kisses her.

Things had turned from rushed and frantic to loving and sweet. She rocks her hips along with his, and it feels amazing. He slows down the pace to really just take her all in.

“Love you so much.” He whispers in her ear. He picks up the pace a little, and he can feel himself getting closer.

“Please, come inside me, Harry.” She whimpers. “Wanna feel all of you.”

He bites down on her neck while he comes and she moans out at the feeling of him filling her up. He kisses her cheeks and nips at her lips before slowly pulling out. She gasps at the loss of him at first. She gets up to use the bathroom quickly, and then gets into bed with him. He tugs her to lay fully on top of him. She nuzzles into his chest, leaving kisses every few moments. He rubs her back and moves some hair away from her face so she’ll look up at him. He opens his mouth to say something, but he feels good about the comfortable silence. He opts to just kiss her forehead instead. They both sigh with happiness.

As they fell asleep in each other’s arms, neither had a care in the world. They both knew this was the only time in their lives that they could be so carefree, and they weren’t going to waste it or worry. They wanted to be with each other right now, and that was good enough for the both of them.

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter four: cham-pain

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

A/N: hey, you.  yes, YOU. has anyone told you that you’re pretty today? well, if not let me be the first. i can’t help but feel lovey-dovey about the love you guys have shown me on this story. thank you so much for everything.  i hope you like this chapter and i hope you’ll reach out and let me know either way.  big shoutout to the baes @ladyartemesia​ and @taetaewonderland​ they know why.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

********************

At what point do you stop calling them shorts and start calling them panties?

That’s the question Hoseok ponders when he walks into the kitchen to find you precariously perched on tiptoes, straining to reach for something in an overhead cabinet.  He lets his gaze linger over the soft skin of your legs, up to your thighs, up higher to where he can damned near see the swell of your ass peeking out from that obscene little scrap of cloth.

What he does next is probably unwise.

What he does next is approach silently from behind, pressing one hand into the small of your back as he reaches over you to get a hold of the jar you’re struggling to grab. And if he enjoys the way your body jolts with surprise beneath his fingertips or the way your hair smells when he’s this close, then that’s his business and no one else’s.

“Thank you,” you murmur, avoiding his eyes and for a moment Hoseok thinks you’re going to scold him for being so bold.

But you don’t.

*********************

Hoseok shouldn’t be toying with you right now and he knows it. It’s not like you’ve ever been an open book with him, but these past few days you’ve been even more withdrawn -- more in your head than ever before.  

Not that you don’t have your reasons.

Shit is off the rails with your case and you’re living with a complete stranger and someone left a live fucking snake in your bedroom a few nights ago.  

So if Hoseok has noticed that you walk around in a fog — that the fire he used to see inside of you from time to time seems extinguished — well, that’s certainly understandable. 

But he can’t help but wonder if there’s something more to your melancholy. He can’t help but wonder if you actually hold a candle for that idiot you left reeling at the restaurant.  

Hoseok can’t stop thinking about that guy.  

There is a feeling he can’t shake and it’s not just the urge to beat Kang Donghyuk to a pulp. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling that beneath the dopey smile and the lazy charm and the overall benign affect, there’s something more.  

Something Hoseok is determined to figure out.

So he leaves you to your cooking in the kitchen and retreats to the privacy of his room to phone Seokjin.  If this piece of shit is up to something, Hoseok is going to make it his personal mission to find it.

And if he finds something?

Then Hoseok will make it his personal mission to make him pay.

***********************

YOU

“Amsaja -- with Hoseok.  Try being nice.”

You think back to your brother’s words as you stand just outside the door to Hoseok’s room, fist raised to knock.  But you don’t, at least not right away.  

What is your fucking problem?

You remind yourself that you are a grown woman, not some skittish little girl.  You remind yourself that Jung Hoseok is just a man.  

And then you get a grip.

The door opens after one light knock.  You don’t mean to stare, truly you don’t -- but Hoseok is wearing one of those goddamned tank tops again.  What happened to suits all day and all night?  Suits are a hell of a lot less distracting.

“What’s up?” he asks cautiously.  

Your eyes dart from his face to his chest to his arms and finally settle around his neck, where a pair of dog tags hang from a silver chain.  You had nearly forgotten that Jung Hoseok made a career of the military before he was one of your brother’s right-hand men.

“I made some Samgyetang,” you say lamely, gesturing to the bowl of soup in your hands.

I made it for you. 

“And it’s uh, supposed to be good for a cold,” you add, when he says nothing.

Which you have.  

“So, I -- ” you clear your throat, shift your weight back and forth on your feet, “ -- made some.”

For you.

Hoseok stares at the bowl like you’ve brought him a grenade instead of a meal.  The puzzled look on his face makes you feel awkward, makes the entire gesture seem silly.

“Never mind,” you say under your breath, turning on your heels.  

“Wait --” Hoseok calls quickly, stepping out of his room to follow you,  “ -- I didn’t -- I was just surprised, that’s all.” 

“It’s just soup,” you say over your shoulder, trying like hell to sound casual and not at all offended.

Hoseok keeps pace behind you into the kitchen; commands your attention with one firm hand on your arm.  You turn to face him, averting your gaze from the sweatpants that hang low on his hips and the thin cotton that grips every muscle of his lean chest.

“I didn’t mean to make that weird,” Hoseok says quietly. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had homemade Samgyetang.”

You pull your arm out of his hold.  

“Well, it’s there if you want it,” you shrug, brushing past him.

It’s a relief to trade the charged air of the kitchen for the uncomplicated quiet of your room.

*************************

Hyejin takes her reading glasses off to rub the bridge of her nose.  

“I’m not even kidding about my eyesight being shot,” she sighs, reaching for her coffee cup.  “It gets worse every day and the print on these depositions does not help.”

“I know,” you mumble, highlighter flying over your own set of fine print.  “Sorry.”

“Hey, at least we’re in this together,” she smiles. “Right?” 

Her face falls when you don’t return the gesture.

It’s not exactly a secret that you haven’t been firing on all cylinders lately.  You are so worn out from the shit going on at work and the shit going on at home that it feels like you don’t have much more to give.  You just want to climb into bed and sleep for a week straight.

If only you had that luxury.  

Instead, you’re back at it with Hyejin today, trying to figure out a way around the missing digital evidence you so desperately need.  The loss of those files was a terrible setback, but you refuse to let it be the end.  You still have an entire warehouse full of confiscated guns under lock and key.

Now you just need to get your head in the game.

“You still going to the gala tomorrow night?” Hyejin asks, sipping her coffee.

So much for getting your head in the game.

“Not sure,” you murmur, underlining a key part of the testimony.  “Lots of shit going on right now.”

“Yeah, I know things between you and Donghyuk got weird,” Hyejin says carefully.

You stop yourself from laughing out loud. 

Donghyuk is so far down your list of fires to fight, you’d nearly forgotten him completely.  You probably could forget him if you weren’t subjected to his dirty looks every time the two of you cross paths at the office.  You’ve made at least two very awkward cups of coffee standing side-by-side in the past week alone -- but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“That’s -- “ you start and stop before continuing, “ -- not really an issue right now.”

“Okay, sure,” Hyejin concedes. “Just don’t forget that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, alright?  You don’t always have to take everything on by yourself.”

You stop your incessant highlighting to look up at your friend and colleague.  

Concern is written all over her pretty face and for a moment you entertain the thought of opening up to her.  The idea of talking about what’s going on is tempting -- like if you could share just a piece of your burden you could relieve some of the pressure inside of you.  But there’s another part of you that worries that you are too pent up to let go of any of this.  A part of you that feels like all it will take is one tiny crack for the entire dam to give.

You finally manage to muster one weak smile for your friend, who seems relieved to see any display of emotion out of you.

“Thanks, Hye.  I’ll keep that in mind.”

***********************

You almost skipped tonight.  Almost.

But you’d already bought a dress and the tickets were paid for and Hoseok didn’t even flinch when you told him you had to go to a black-tie event. 

If only you could say the same for the moment you saw him in the living room.

When Hoseok turned at the sound of your heels on the marble floor, with hands tucked into the pockets of his bespoke black tux, you nearly forgot to breathe.  All of the coordinating details, the slim-cut jacket and the perfectly-styled hair and the carefully-crafted bow tie felt like a gut punch.

You’d silently prayed that Hoseok didn’t catch the way your eyes lingered on him for just a beat too long -- or that he didn’t spot the heat you could feel creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. The color that must have been made all the more obvious against the rose shade of your gown.

“You ready?”

Hoseok interrupts your thoughts with his usual business-like tone.  The one that tells you that this inner monologue about how incredible he looks tonight is painfully one-sided.  

You nod, not trusting yourself to use your words.

All things considered, the situation with Donghyuk couldn’t have gone south at a better time.  He would have been your date for the night were it not for the blow up at dinner -- and it certainly would have drawn unwanted attention to have two men at your side all evening.  

Though with the way Hoseok looks tonight, you imagine the attention will come anyway.

*********************

There are few things in life rich people enjoy more than pretending to give a shit about poor ones. 

They make sport of it, jockeying for position in front of the cameras, gladly shelling out hundreds of thousands of won a plate to prove just how much they care.  They spend their evenings drinking top-shelf liquor and eating top-notch catering and convincing themselves that they’re making some kind of sacrifice for the greater good.  

A string quartet plays softly in the background as guests mill about, grabbing drinks and hors d'oeuvres off of passing trays.  Hoseok is at your side, a glass of water in hand.  He is just close enough for you to take in his heady, masculine smell -- but not too close.

You hate that he smells this good.

You hate that he looks this good.

You have tried -- and failed -- to ignore the appreciative stares he’s gotten from some of the gala guests.  You already caught one woman ogling outright, gawking unrepentantly while at her own date’s side.  When a cocktail server walks by with a carefully-balanced offering of champagne flutes, you grab one right away.

Hoseok, as usual, takes nothing.  

You sip your champagne and watch him watching the room.  

He certainly looks the part of a society player tonight in his tux, the occasional wrinkle of his nose the only indicator of his disdain for the men and women drinking and dancing around him.  When a woman bumps into him while carrying a plate of appetizers, he holds out a hand to help her keep upright and she damned near melts at his reassuring smile.  

“Oh, thank you,” she breathes deeply before her eyes dart in your direction.  

You look away.

Not once have you ever seen this man smile, and he’s certainly never smiled at you.  You turn to slam the rest of your champagne and put the empty flute on a nearby table just as another cocktail server passes with a full tray of drinks. 

How fortuitous.  You grab another.  

There’s a few more minutes of mingling before the guests are asked to take a seat at their assigned tables.  Hoseok holds out your chair and you accept. 

The interaction, like always, is silent.

You look up from the perfectly staged spread to spot Donghyuk two tables away.  Even from a distance you can tell his cheeks look ruddy — like he’s already had way too much to drink. He narrows his eyes when he realizes you are looking and you lift your champagne flute to tip a sarcastic salute in his direction.  He scowls back.

“Miss Kim,” a deep voice interrupts your petty exchange. “What a pleasant coincidence.”

You force a smile when your boss and his wife unexpectedly fill two empty seats at your table.

“Mr. Park,” you return quietly. “Nice to see you tonight. And Mrs. Park, of course.”

Mrs. Park’s answering smile is warm and genuine, but the same cannot be said of her husband’s. Of course, the last conversation you had with him one-on-one, he’d practically thrown you out of his office. The smile on his face right now is a bit watery.

“It’s so nice to see you dear,” Mrs. Park says sweetly.  “And who is this handsome fellow?”

You falter when you open your mouth to answer, but Hoseok smoothly interjects.

“Yi Sang, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

You close your mouth and turn to smile woodenly at Hoseok, who doesn’t bother to look back. 

“Mr. Yi,” your boss extends his hand for a firm handshake, but a strange look passes over his face.  “The pleasure is ours.” 

Hoseok’s mouth pulls into a tight smile and you down what’s left of your champagne.

A couple you don’t recognize join your table before dinner is served.  You do your best to appear engaged in the small talk; nodding when appropriate, smiling during the awkward pauses.  But there is an emptiness in you tonight.  You spend the entire meal pushing the artfully-arranged dishes around your plate because you find you have no desire for food.

The same cannot be said for the champagne, though. That’s going down quite nicely.  Your server dutifully brings another flute as soon as yours is empty.

“I must commend you, Miss Kim, on forging ahead with this case,” Mr. Park says, when the plates have been cleared and after-dinner coffee is being served.  “I know it hasn’t been easy after the theft of your files.”

“Oh,” you clear your throat. “Yes, well -- I’m doing my best with what I have left.”

“Of course. It’s important we do what we can to bring these low-lives to justice,” Mr. Kim says slowly.  He looks from you to Hoseok with an expression that stops just short of a challenge and the champagne in your stomach seems to come to life. “Organized crime in this city is out of hand. We can’t allow Seoul to descend into chaos because of the trash making a living off of guns and drugs.”

Trash like your brother. 

“Right,” you say quietly, swallowing past a lump in your throat. “I’ll do my best.” 

Hoseok remains composed at your side, but you don’t miss how his knuckles go white as his grip around the water glass tightens.  

Trash like Hoseok.  

You swallow another mouthful of champagne.  

The couple sitting next to the Parks -- oblivious to the friction at the table -- strike up a conversation about the dessert selection and you’ve never been more glad for small talk.  The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

But you keep drinking.

Hoseok leans into you, lips so close they nearly brush the shell of your ear and your entire body goes still.  Goosebumps bloom all over when you feel his breath against your skin.

“You should eat something,” he murmurs.

You could almost laugh at the way your stomach seems to fall with disappointment.  What were you expecting him to say? Something complimentary? Something reassuring?  

What a joke.

All at once you decide you need space, you need air, you need a break from the bullshit you seem to be taking from all sides tonight.

Hoseok’s eyebrows lift as you stand from your seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you announce to the table, “I need to visit the powder room.”

The champagne seems to hit you the moment you stand and you have to work hard at keeping your steps steady as you make your way out of the ballroom.

You would never admit it, but Hoseok is right. 

You really should eat something.

***********************

hoseok: text me or i’m coming in [11:02 PM ]

You stand in the mirror and stare at your reflection in the dim lighting of the ladies’ room. You’ve been to dozens of these events over the years and it’s never felt as pointless and unnatural to you as it does right now.  A part of you hates how much you’ve tied yourself into knots seeking the validation of these pompous assholes.  So desperate to be chosen by the chosen few. 

hoseok: last chance [11:06 PM ]

Another part of you hates Hoseok.  

You hate his constant presence and his constant silence and his constant judgement.  It always feels like he’s punishing you for some transgression you don’t even know you’ve committed.  Your phone buzzes with a reminder of the waiting texts and you sigh, unlocking the screen to fire off an answer before Hoseok makes good on his threat to storm his way in.

you: i’m fine. be right out [ 11:08 PM ]

You take one last look in the mirror.  Have you always looked this tired? 

Before dinner -- after you’d meticulously primped for tonight -- you’d been satisfied with what you saw in the mirror.  Now all you can see are the shadows under your eyes, the grim set of your mouth.  Is this what other people see when they look at you, too?

A knock sounds on the door and you blow out an exasperated breath.  Hoseok must be tired of waiting for you to wrap this pity party.  You yank the door open with more force than intended, fully prepared to tell him to fuck off.

But it’s Donghyuk on the other side.

You stare at him.

“What do you want?” you hiss, stepping out into the hallway.

“I just want to talk,” Donghyuk says coolly, standing just a bit too close. You grimace at the smell of liquor on his breath.  “You still haven’t given me a chance to thank you personally for making me look like an asshole at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, honey -- you don’t need my help to look like an asshole,” you fire back, pushing more space in between you with a firm shove of your fingers to his shoulder. “You do a fine job of that all on your own.”

His laughter blows whiskey-tinged hot air in your direction and you make a face.

“I see you upgraded the bodyguard to dinner date.”

“Shut up, Donghyuk, honestly,” you seethe.  You try to step around him to leave, but he blocks you with his body.  

“You fucking him now, too?”

You barely register the movement of your own hand before it’s connecting with the side of Donghyuk’s face.  You barely register Hoseok’s arrival before he’s between you both, pulling you away and practically shoving Donghyuk to the floor.  You barely hear Hoseok’s whispered threats and you nearly miss the way he unbuttons his jacket to ensure Donghyuk sees his gun.

The whole debacle is so fast and so surreal you could almost convince yourself you imagined it.

But there is no imagining the sting still throbbing in your palm.

*****************************

HOSEOK

The trouble tonight started long before you smacked the shit out of Kang Donghyuk. 

The trouble started when you walked out of your room in that goddamned gown. Hoseok had not been entirely prepared for you in that dress.

He had only a split second to make sure he wasn’t staring.  He jammed his hands into his pockets and forced the most casual demeanor he could muster, but fuck it wasn’t easy.  There were a hundred things he could have said in that moment, would have said in that moment -- if you weren’t you and if he weren’t him.

Of course, dinner was a bit of a clusterfuck, too.

Playing dress up with the city’s elites was somehow less enjoyable than Hoseok imagined it would be.  The stares from tipsy society girls and the critical looks from their dates were bad enough but your boss laying it on thick with the white knight bullshit at the end was the real icing on the cake.  The coded language and the veiled threats that made loud and clear he knew exactly what Hoseok was but wouldn’t say it out loud.  

Hoseok saw the way you seemed to retreat even further into yourself during the exchange, silent and thinking.

And drinking. 

Hoseok has only ever seen you enjoy the occasional glass of wine with meals.  Tonight was an entirely different story. You were on a mission to get wrecked from the moment you sat down; forgoing food for an alarming amount of champagne.  Hoseok counted four glasses down before he decided to say something. 

Of course, that went over about as well as he’d expected -- and seconds later, you were walking away.

Hoseok hadn’t planned on following you to the bathroom. He hadn’t planned on overhearing the nasty back-and-forth in the hall . And he hadn’t planned on threatening to kill Kang Donghyuk at some ridiculous charity dinner.  But when he saw the man get up from his seat to follow you -- Hoseok moved on auto-pilot.  

There was no avoiding what came next.

**********************

You don’t utter a single word on the ride home.  

You don’t say a word when Hoseok walks you upstairs, unlocks the door to usher you inside.  He’s still securing the new deadbolts when he hears your bedroom door slam shut.

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face and sighs deeply before loosening the bow tie and slipping it off.   

Then he pulls out his phone to text Seokjin.

hoseok: you on him? [ 11:48 PM ]

seokjin: sleeping it off in his car right now. what a slob [ 11:49 PM ]

seokjin: you’re welcome btw [ 11:49 PM ]

hoseok: thx [ 11:50 PM ]

Seconds later, your bedroom door swings open so hard it bounces back off the opposite wall. Hoseok looks up from his phone just as you are storming into the living room, hands still securing the belt to the short robe you’ve just changed into.  

You are positively vibrating with a dangerous energy Hoseok can feel clear across the room.  Maybe you’ve been sleepwalking through these past few days, but you are definitely awake now.

And angry.

“I don’t need you to win my fights,” you fume, pointing one hostile finger in his direction. “I took care of myself long before you came along and I can take care of myself now.”

Christ, do you have any idea how little you are wearing right now?  

Hoseok focuses on that accusing finger because it keeps him from staring at your legs. It also keeps him from opening his mouth and making you madder than you already are. 

“I don’t need you or anyone else swooping in with that macho bullshit,” you hiss, bringing your body within inches of his.  “I have had enough of men running and ruining every aspect of my life.”

Shit, do you have any idea how close you are right now? 

Hoseok can smell the perfume that lingers on your skin when you’re this close.  He can see how your pupils are blown wide and your cheeks are flushed with heat when you’re this close. 

“Say something,” you demand, jabbing your finger into his chest.  “Do something.”

Fuck, you are playing with fire.

You want a fight and Hoseok is this close to giving you one.  He has to summon every ounce of his self control to keep his voice and breathing steady. He fists his hands at his sides to keep them from moving.  

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he replies with careful calm.  “You should go to bed.”

“Or what?” you challenge, fingers reaching to unfasten the top buttons of his dress shirt.  Hoseok’s entire body tenses under your touch. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he says between gritted teeth. 

“Checking for a heartbeat,” you murmur. “Looking for signs of life.  Is there a real man in there?”

There’s a real man in here, alright, Hoseok thinks darkly.  Keep pushing me and you’re going to find out.

“Of course not,” you whisper to yourself, snaking one hand into the collar of his shirt. He flinches when your fingertips brush up against the cool metal of his dog tags. “You’re some kind of robot.”

You pull the tags out from under his collar and Hoseok swallows thickly.  

“Just a machine programmed to follow orders, right?  My brother’s orders. The Army’s orders,” you pause to read the embossed letters on his tags.  ‘Isn’t that right, Captain Jung?”

You gasp when Hoseok’s hand comes up to seize yours.  His fingers circle the delicate bones of your wrist and he doesn’t let go, applying a pressure that sure as hell gets your attention.

“People like me follow orders so people like you don’t have to,” Hoseok seethes.  “People like me do the dirty work so people like you can impress rich assholes at stupid parties. People like me stay behind and handle our responsibilities so people like you can walk away from yours.”

Your stare at him for a moment, eyes wide at his outburst.  Then you jerk your wrist out of his hold so violently you nearly fall back with the force of it. 

Hoseok freezes when your robe slides down off your shoulder. He stares when his eyes settle on the jagged scar that runs deep across your collarbone.  

Fucking hell. 

Hoseok traded one bloody business for another when he gave up his rank in the Army for his rank in the Gajog. He’s seen more than his fair share of vicious cuts and nasty wounds. 

Whoever did that to you wanted to make sure you’d have to carry it with you for the rest of your life.

********************

Tomorrow morning, Hoseok is gonna regret a lot of shit that happened tonight. 

He’s going to regret not telling you how beautiful you looked when you walked out of that room.  He’s going to regret going out of his way to hurt you with his words. 

But most of all, he’s going to regret the moment he looked into your face and saw the anger in your eyes change over into pain.

You yank the robe back over your shoulder, cinch the belt tight — and walk away without another word. 

********************

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[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Special Guest

Florian Munteanu x reader

Warning: Smut, 18+, Florian in that grey jogging suit

A/N: There is unprotected sex in this story. Remember this is fiction, so in real life, make them wrap that before you let them tap that, okurrrrrt?!

Word Count: 3,814 [whoops!]

********

You shuffled into the lobby of the hotel and set down your bags down.

"Sorry, I'm late. There must be something big going on downtown, because traffic was ridiculous," you said as you pinned your name tag to your blazer. You quickly keyed in your code to clock in and turned to your coworker, Chanel. "Did I miss anything?"

"Did you miss anything? You're three minutes late, you've literally missed nothing." She playfully rolled her eyes. "You know, we get real sick of you being Miss Goody Two Shoes around here."

"Oh, I'm sorry my work ethic offends you ma'am," you laughed. The large figure sitting on the couch caught your eye, a guest sitting halfway off the sofa with his feet on the table. You inched around the large counter to make your way over to him.

"What are you doing?" Chanel grabbed you to stop you from approaching him. She knew the moment you noticed him you'd say something having no idea who he was.

"I'm gonna go ask him to get his feet off of the furniture if that's okay with you?" You pulled away and continued in his direction. Your shoes clacking loudly across the floor as you make your way over to him.

"Hi, sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to remove your feet from the table. I can grab you a foot stool if your legs need to be elevated," you smiled sweetly.

He never looked up from his phone. You cleared your throat, but again he didn't budge. You turned to look back at Chanel who was watching you in horror.

You tapped his shoulder. This time he looked up at you and pulled his hood down, removing an airpod from his ear.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but may you please remove your feet from the table?" You clasped your hands together in front of you.

"Yep, sorry," he sat up and looked behind you, "the person I was waiting for is coming anyway," he stood.

You took a step back, "Oh shit, you're a giant," you clapped your hand over mouth. "Sorry, I did not mean to say that."

He looked at you and smiled.

"Oh wow," you said. You clamped your eyes shut. What the hell is wrong with you? You cleared your throat, "Um, yeah, so next time there's um, a foot stool you can use if you need to—"

A large shadow caught your attention. You turned to see the person he must have been waiting for coming closer.

"Oh my God, there are two of you," you inhaled sharply. Seriously, why couldn't you stop your thoughts from just tumbling from your mouth? You cleared your throat again deciding it was best to just walk away before you said something else silly. "You gentlemen enjoy your night."

Chanel watched you walk back over to the desk. You did your best to remain calm and hide the embarrassment that coursed through your veins. You pretended to type something on the screen as Florian and Masias walked towards the entrance.

"Enjoy your evening, Mr. Munteanu," Chanel called out to him.

Florian paused his stride and looked back, "Thank you and make sure you don't work too hard tonight, beautiful."

You stopped typing and looked up. He was looking at you and winked before he turned back around. Your breath caught in your throat and tongue snaked out to wet your lips.

Once they were completely outside you scurried around the desk.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"Bathroom," you stomped down the hall. You opened the ladies room door and leaned against it. The coolness of it relieved your rising temperature. You pulled a few paper towels out, wet them and pressed them against your throat and neck.

You've worked at this hotel for three years and have seen your fair share of attractive men, but you've never had such a reaction to a single one the way you were having now. This Munteanu guy had you absolutely flustered...and horny. You shifted from one foot to the other as the cool air hit your damp panties.

"Shit," you sighed and went inside the stall to remove them. Thank goodness you decided to wear thigh highs instead of tights under your skirt today. You tucked the thin material in the pocket of your blazer and headed back up front.

********

"You know what the problem is? It's been too long since you've been laid." Chanel said as she dropped a handful of M&M's into her mouth. Ever since you came back from the bathroom, she wouldn't lay off about how you'd made an absolute ass of yourself.

"Why can't you let it go?" You huffed.

"Because, you need to hear it. I say you fuck him," she shrugged.

"Chanel! I don't know that man and he is a customer." You couldn't believe her. She knew you well enough to know that there was absolutely no way you'd have sex with a total stranger.

"Even better; no strings attached, just sex. Consider him a special guest.” There was that Cheshire cat grin again, “Also, judging by the print he had in those gray sweats, if he knows how to use that thing, it'll be good sex. Plus, he has big hands." She wiggled her fingers.

"For the love of god, would you please knock it off?" You grabbed the duster and walked away. You couldn't take any more of her. Mostly because everything she was saying you'd already thought of and you needed those thoughts to stop.

Having meaningless sex was not something you'd ever done and having sex with guests of the hotel was simply out of the question.

You saw Chanel making her way towards you. You rolled your eyes. She was seriously crossing the line. It's not as if she cared. She prided herself on being your "tell it like it is" friend and getting you to step outside of your safe zone. She could be messy and annoying at times, but you loved her all the same.

"Don't come over here with your mess, Nell," you continue to wipe.

"Girl please," she waved you off, "all I'm saying is, you need to live a little. You clearly got his attention."

"Yeah, I'm sure a lot of women has his attention. He's very attractive and probably flirts with anything that has a pulse," you looked at her.

"So?"

"So, I'm not trying to be another notch on this man's belt."

"A notch on his—what are you 50?" She doubled over in laughter. You couldn't help but laugh with her. The phrase was a little dated, but she knew what you meant.

A few late check-ins filed into the lobby, so you both went back into professional mode. You kept your focus on the guests in front of you as you helped them as best you could, but your mind would never stray far from Mr. Munteanu.

********

Florian and his friends had finally returned from their night out. You took a deep breath, smiled politely and greeted them as you would any other entering guests. Masias was obviously a little tipsy and was loud and giggly.

"Go talk to her," he whispered loudly.

"You need to go talk to some toothpaste, Masias." Florian put his hand up. They had another person with them this time who assured Florian that he had Masias. Florian doubled back to the desk and stopped in front of you. "Um, hi."

"Hello, Mr. Munteanu, how may I assist you?" You asked.

"Just wondering if you could possibly send someone up with extra trash bags and a can to 804? He's going to need it."

"Absolutely, sir, may I help you with anything else?" You looked down at your screen to type the memo out for housekeeping to drop those items off to his room.

"Florian."

"Excuse me?" You glanced up at him.

"My name is Florian. You don't have to keep calling me sir," he smiled.

"I am an employee and you are a guest. It would be very unprofessional of me to call you by your first name... Sir." You smiled innocently.

His smile wavered. He couldn't tell if you were flirting or giving him attitude, but he just made up his mind to find out.

You stared him in the eye. You weren't showing that you were flustered like you were earlier. You had prepared yourself just in case he came back.

He chuckled. "Okay, have it your way Miss," he peeked at your name tag, "Y/N. You have a nice night, dragă meă." He walked away.

"You too, sir," you spoke to his back.

********

"Hey, where have you been?" You asked Chanel when she returned to the station.

"Oh, I took that stuff up to 804," she smiled slyly.

"That's Tony's job."

"Yeah, and I did my coworker a favor while he was on break. I was standing there when the memo came through."

"Mmm hmm, so why are you just now returning? That was 30 minutes ago," you raised a brow.

Chanel's face lit up like a Christmas tree. You groaned.

"Nell, you didn't!"

"Would you calm down? He was too drunk to take it too far."

"Too drunk? I talked to Florian, he wasn't all that drunk." You said.

"Florian? Y'all on a first name basis now."

"No, I— he just told me what it was. That slipped." You explained.

"Mmm hmm, well it wasn't Florian. It was his cute friend, Masias. I would've sucked the skin off of his dick too if the other guy hadn't been there."

You just shook your head and laughed. This girl was a hot mess.

"I'm gonna go lock up the pool. Please stay put until I get back."

You made the short trip to the pool, but before putting the code in, you peeked through the glass to see if anything needed to be picked up. This was someone else's job, but of course they never did what they were supposed to do.

You saw a towel and a pair of slides, so you slipped in to tell whoever it was that it was time for you to lock up. When you got close enough, they popped up to the surface with a large splash getting you wet.

You yelped. He turned to look at you.

"Um, sir, it's time for the pool to close," you said swiping at the wet spots on your blouse and skirt.

"I'll be right out," he said.

Your head snapped up at the sound of Florian's voice. He lifted his large frame out of the water near you. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe. Damn, he was a lot of man.

You picked up the towel and handed it to him, unable to peel your gaze away from him as he dried himself off.

"Like what you see?" He asked.

"What?" You shook your head pulling yourself from the trance, "no, I, um... absolutely not."

"Are you always so uptight?"

"Are you always such a jerk?" You frowned. "I'll come back in five minutes. If you're still in here, I will lock you in." You turned to walk away.

"No, no, no, wait. I'm sorry, dragă meă, I shouldn't have said that." He grabbed your hand before you could get too far.

"What does that mean?" You questioned.

"What?"

"Draga may-ya?" You spoke slowly. He laughed at your pronunciation. You turned your head to the side and jutted out a hip, "really?" You smirked.

"You did your best and it was cute as hell. It means my darling."

"Mmm hmm, is that the universal nickname you give all women?"

"Nope, had that one saved up just for you," he pulled you close to him. You'd forgotten until that moment that he was still holding on to your hand.

Your other hand came up and rested on his chest. He flexed his pecs beneath you.

"Oh, sweet lord," you tried to move away, but he held on to you. "Um, this is very inappropriate, Mr. Munteanu. And you're getting me all wet."

"Oh, am I?" He raised a brow.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"I think it is," he ran his free hand over your ass and then down into your skirt. Your breath caught in your throat when he cupped your bare ass.

He slid his fingers between your cheeks, rubbed over your wet slit and pressed down on your clit.

"Did I tell you that you could touch me?" You pressed your forehead into his chest.

He stopped pressing on your clit, but never removed his hand from your skirt.

"I could stop or I could make you have the best orgasm of your life. Which would you like?" He asked.

You started laughing. Your body shook lightly as you pushed away from him. He looked confused. It was as if something within you had snapped.

"You men are all the same, always promising the best orgasms when you can't manage to even locate a g-spot."

"Are you challenging me?" His voice dropped an octave and his accent grew thicker.

You looked him in his eyes to let him know you were serious.

"Absolutely."

He wasted no time throwing you over his large shoulder and carrying you into the locker room. He sat you down on a bench and pushed your skirt up around your waist. He crouched down in front of you and put your legs over his shoulders.

"When this is over, the only thing you'll be able think about is Big Nasty." His eyes had gone from hazel green to nearly black. Completely darkened by lust.

"You talk too much," you said as you grabbed the back of his head and forced it between your thighs.

Florian sucked your clit into his mouth, using his tongue to brush over it lightly causing your legs to shake just a little. He stopped sucking with a loud pop from his mouth. You pushed him back down and thrust your hips forward. When he sucked it back into his mouth, you pulled away.

"Mmm, yesssss," you mewled as you repeated the movements. The loud sucking sounds bounced off the metal in the empty room.

He growled deep in his chest before he started rolling his tongue over your clit and sliding a thick finger inside of you. You inhaled sharply and caught your lip in between your teeth. He pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding another.

You scratched at his head as he went back to flicking his tongue over your clit.

"Oh god," you cried out as your orgasm built. Your legs shook and Florian picked up the pace.

"You gonna cum for me, dragă meă? Hmm?" He wasn't expecting you to answer him; he already knew what it was.

He felt you tighten around his fingers. It made his dick hard thinking about how you would feel wrapped around him.

"Yes, yes, yes!!" You dug your nails into his shoulder as you quivered into your release.

He watched you as you bathed in ecstasy. Your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He reached up and slowly unbuttoned your shirt. He opened it to reveal a simple black bra.

Florian leaned over you and softly kissed each of the smooth mounds before moving to your stomach and then back down to your clit. You flinched due to still being sensitive from your orgasm.

He did it again just to see the same reaction. He smiled.

"Don't be so cocky. You did okay at best," you rolled your eyes.

That triggered him. This time, you watched his pupils dilate and he grabbed your ankle to pull you closer.

"I think I've figured you out," he said as he pulled his hard dick from his shorts. "You've never been fucked the right way," he stroked himself.

Your eyes bulged at the sight of him and your mouth suddenly went dry. There was no way he could fuck you without hurting you. You tried to move, but he held on.

"Don't run now. You talk shit and now you need to back it up." He pushed your legs back and rubbed himself up and down your wet slit.

Your pussy contracted with anticipation. The fear of pain turning into excitement within seconds. He pressed his forehead to yours as he pushed inside of you slowly.

Placing your hands on each side of his face, you let out a loud hiss.

"I'm going to fill you up now, prințesă."

You shuttered as he slid into you further. Gradually stretching you to accommodate his entry. He finally bottomed out and you lost it.

"Ooooh, fuck!" You yelled as you came for the second time.

You dug your nails into his neck.

When you finally opened your eyes he was looking at you with a smirk on his face as he slowly pulled out until just the tip of him was in.

"Um, that's never happened be—"

He drove back into you at full speed cutting off your sentence. He fucked you hard and fast. He moved one hand above your head for support and moved the other to your throat squeezing lightly.

"Harder, harder, harder!" You chanted. He granted your wish and applied more pressure, but making sure not to hurt you.

"I knew you had it in you, Dragă meă. Walking around here with no panties, likes to be choked; it's always the quiet ones." He could feel you tightening around him. "Look at you, a mess, getting ready to cum again. But what if I don't want you to?" He pulled out completely and loosened his grip a little.

"No, no, no, please!" You were on the verge of tears. "Why did you do that?" You tried to sit up, but he pushed you back down tightening his grip on your throat again.

"I didn't tell you to move," he slipped his hand under your bra and pinched your nipple. You moaned as the mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through your body. Between his choking and pinching, you couldn't resist reaching down to rub your clit.

Florian watched as you played with yourself. His mouth watered a little at the sight. He wanted that pussy back into his mouth, but he controlled himself.

"Yeah, play with that tight pussy. That’s my pussy now. Make it wetter for me." His dick twitched as he watched you.

You could feel yourself getting ready to cum again, so you stopped and slapped your clit lightly. You wanted him inside of you again.

"Please, Florian, I want you. I need you," you tell him.

You used two fingers to spread your slick covered lips to invite him inside. He wasted no time penetrating your slick cunt. You mewled as he slowly slipped in. He latched his mouth onto yours swallowing your moans.

Florian broke the kiss and started swearing in Romanian. You didn't know what he was saying, but it was turning you on even more.

"Yessss, baby, give me all of that good dick."

He pulled out and flipped you over. He stood you up and bent you over, so your hands were planted on the bench. He slid back into you with one hand on your hip and the other clutching the band of your bra.

"Play with that pussy," he demanded.

You immediately rubbed your clit.

He put one foot up on the bench and invaded your core as much as he could.

"Good girl, prințesă. You take me so well."

The sound of your bodies joining, your loud moans and the squelch of your soaking cunt created a symphony of pleasure.

Your legs began shaking again. He put his arm around your waist to help hold you up.

"Yes, Flo!! Fuck me, baby!" You started cumming.

He started losing control as you squeezed around him. His hips stuttered and he growled deep in his chest. You heard him calling for god just before he pulled out quickly and finished all over your ass and pussy.

He slapped his still fully erect dick on your glistening cunt and then rubbed the tip from one hole to another.

You both breathed heavily. He turned you to face him before taking you into his arms and kissing you deeply.

"I really should get back out there," you said and moved from his lap. Your legs wobbled beneath you as you tried to stand. You quickly recovered using his towel to clean yourself off and button your shirt back up.

Florian took his time putting his shorts back on. He placed his feet in his shoes and followed you out. The elevator and lobby were in opposite directions, but before you parted ways, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to him.

"Hey, look at me," he said and lifted your chin. "You didn't have a good time?"

"I had a great time...like a really great time, but it's over now, so..."

"Who says it's over? I'll be here for the next few days. Can I take you out on another date?"

"Another date?? This doesn't count as a date, Florian," you scrunched your face.

"You're cute," he laughed. "It absolutely counts as a date. It's the best first date I've ever had."

"That's not funny," you pinched his arm.

"No, really, I would love to see you tomorrow. Please?" He looked so innocent.

"I'm off at 7am," you smiled at him.

"I'll see you then," he leaned down to kiss your lips. He watched as you walked away. "Are you sure you don't want to come up with me?"

"Good night, Mr. Munteanu," you said over your shoulder. You heard him chuckle as he stepped onto the elevator.

********

"Mmm hmm, and where have you been?" Chanel asked the moment you came around the corner.

"Locking up the pool," you said casually.

"Riiight, the pool passing out hickeys now?"

You ran over to the mirror, "What?! He didn't even —" you stopped talking when you saw nothing there. You squeezed your eyes shut. She played you.

"I knew it, I knew it!!!" She jumped up and down. "You have to tell me how it was. I know that dick was fire just by the way he carries himself. He drips big dick energy."

You looked around before speaking, "It was incredible and I never wanted to stop." You blurted out.

"So is this like a one night thing or are you gonna get more before he leaves?"

"He wants to go out tomorrow," you said.

She jumped for joy again. You couldn't figure why she was acting this way. It hadn't been that long since you dated... has it? You dismissed your friend. You weren't even going to attempt to do any work. It was useless. The only thing on your mind was Florian and your date tomorrow. You couldn’t keep yourself from smiling.

[experimentalmadness]

The Invite

Please enjoy me going absolutely feral over my silly OC and writing pre-supervillain material of her and Harvey’s friendship. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have more coming. 

----

Jacky could feel Miri practically vibrating with excitement as she wheeled her from the car up the ramp to Wayne Manor. Normally Miri would never let anyone push her chair, but Jacky needed something to hold on to or she was going to be sick. 

The Ripley sisters, Gotham’s jumped-up gutter trash, standing at the entrance to Wayne Manor. This had to be the start of some sick joke. She just hoped they weren’t the punchline. Security made her sweat and she had to remind herself she wasn’t on a job, and no one here knew her. She fished for their invitations and smiled rigidly as it was scanned and they were escorted in. 

“It is so much more beautiful than I could have imagined! Ah, Jacky, take a picture, take a picture!” Miri urged. 

“They allow that in here?”

But of course she obliged, pulling out her phone to snap a few discrete shots of the two of them. A few well dressed guests gave them a look, Jacky forced down the urge to sucker punch them, wondering how many of the elite here tonight secretly owed money to Falcone or Moroni, and how many she’d see at the end of her gun another night. Thinking about work felt wrong...especially now. 

Jacky wheeled Miri down the long corridor, past the works of art hung up on the halls and the sculptures and casings in a place that felt more like a museum instead of one man’s house. Spilling out at the top of a grand foyer Miri gave an awed gasp while Jacky rolled her eyes. It was beautiful, stunning, actually. A band played while Gotham’s elite milled around delicately placed tables, danced on the cleared floor, or mingled out the veranda in the summer night. The floor to ceiling windows gave a pristine view of the immaculate gardens beyond where lights glowed, showing footpaths  and garden house where even at this distance she could see a few guests grabbing drinks. 

This was a mistake. They shouldn’t have agreed to this invitation. 

“How are we going to get down?” Jacky asked, observing staircases on either side of the balcony. 

“I believe I can assist with that,” a voice from behind offered.

Jacky turned, wheeling her sister as she moved. “Oh, my goodness!” Miri squeaked. “Mr. Wayne..I...I...you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

Bruce Wayne certainly lived up to the tabloid shots of him. He laughed at that. “Nonsense, you’re guests in my home, allow me to show you a little trick.” He gave a wink at Miri, and if her sister hadn’t been made of stronger stuff Jacky almost certainly would have thought she’d fall for him on the spot and then Lord help her. 

Waiting for the staircase to clear, Bruce moved aside the intricately carved lion’s head at the top bannister. Jacky raised an eyebrow at the button underneath. As he pressed it the stairs all retracted slowly, creating a gentle slopping ramp. Miri was impressed. Jacky had questions. With a gallant hand Bruce showed the way down and Jacky took her hands off the wheelchair, letting Miri wheel herself beside a much better looking escort. “So may I inquire as to the names of my guests this evening.” 

“Oh, I’m Miriam Ripley, and this is my sister Jacqueline—”

“That same Ripley’s that own the bakery down 9th? Of course! Harvey’s told me all about you.” To his credit, Bruce looked genuinely surprised and delighted to make the connection. He smiled at Miriam, no shock there, Miri was as beautiful as a pixie in her summer blue gown and Bruce Wayne’s reputation preceded him. Luckily Miri was too smart to be blindsided. 

As they made their way down the ramp, Bruce offered a hand to Jacky. “Jacqueline, pleasure to finally meet you as well,” he smiled, but years in her line of work hadn’t made her an idiot. Bruce Wayne was a flirt, he was a charmer, a playboy and probably whatever else the news rags loved to spew, but he was also a liar. The smile never reached his eyes and Jacky had the uncomfortable sensation of being scanned. Rich men must have their reasons for hiding all manner of sins. 

She shook his hand. “Come to the shop some time, Mr. Wayne. I just man the counter, but I’m sure Miri could manage to make something special.”

“I’ll have to do that, Miss. Ripley.”

“This idiot isn’t taking all of your time, is he, Jacky?” 

There he was. Harvey barreled in, one hand going around Bruce’s shoulders, the other still holding onto a champagne flute. “We were just getting introduced,” Bruce said with a slight laugh. Ah, interesting. That one was sincere. 

“I think Harvey is just glad to have a few familiar faces here,” Gilda Dent strode over, elegant and friendly as ever. “And to be honest, so am I,” She bent down to kiss Miri on the cheek and straightened to do the same to Jacky, whispering in her ear. “We’re sneaking some drinks out in the garden later, just us lower east siders.”

Jacky adored Gilda and that made every second she stayed in her presence the best and the worst. “Bless you,” Jacky smiled, all teeth.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to introduce Miriam to two of Gotham’s best patisseries,” Gilda winked.

Jacky shot her sister a clear “don’t leave me here” sidelong look but Miri only shrugged. “Lead the way,” she said as she wheeled off after Gilda. It was going to take a total of fifteen minutes at most before Miri had charmed her way around every corner of this party. She was good at that. Bruce Wayne didn’t linger long after either, remarking that he had to go put in some face time with two potential big investors. 

“And then there were two,” Jacky laughed nervously. 

“Jacky, seriously, thank you for coming,” Harvey said with a nervous laugh of his own. “Bruce said I had to do at least one of these investor galas for the campaign, but if I have to fake another smile at some other rich prick who doesn’t know half of what is going on in their own city I’m going to break something. You want a drink? I’m getting you a drink.”

He talked a big game at being out of his element, but he smiled and shook hands with every single person they passed on their short trip to the bar. Jacky followed a few paces behind. He knew everyone’s names. Of course he did. Harvey finished the last of the champagne, setting the glass down at the bar top. Jacky opened her mouth to order when Harvey spoke first with her exact drink of choice.

“Whiskey sour, hard on the syrup, better make it a double.”

“Right, I’m filing a restraining order because you shouldn’t know that,” Jacky cocked her arm back to give him a jab on the shoulder, but stopped herself. They weren’t out at some dive bar, or in the back of her shop. “Aw, jeeze,” she rubbed the back of her neck. “Feel like some kind of idiot in this getup.”

The dress was not to the caliber of everyone else’s here. She’d found it in some thrift store and liked the purple color enough to buy it. 

“You look stunning.” Harvey slid her the drink.

Those words were going to get her drunk faster than the whiskey would. The drink burned a little as it went down. “Ok we got the obligatory compliments out of the way, how’s the big night actually going? You funded enough to take over the world yet?”

“Let’s start with Gotham, that’s about all I can handle at the moment.” 

Jacky did not trust politicians. Didn’t like their smarmy slogans, or their false promises. Every last one in Gotham was so deep into the pockets of Falcone or Moroni it never mattered what they said. “Hey, if it takes one night like this to make you the DA then it’s worth it,” she said. 

“Can we take that statement to print, Miss Ripley?” Harvey mimed a microphone in front of her. 

“Enough to get the pins on the counter and the posters all over the shop’s walls, yeah,” Jacky took a long drink to get herself to stop staring. The blue eyes really drew you in, he talked to you like he really wanted to get to know you. How else would the big shot lawyer have even bothered making friends with the barista? 

She finished her drink. She was going to need so much more to get through the night. “Should probably go talk to your backers, Harvey. Can’t spend all night talking to me, I don’t have the kind of money you’re looking for.”

“Oh the parasites can get me the rest of the night. You and Miri are probably the only real Gothamites here and I’d rather talk to you...don’t tell Bruce I said that. Hey, how about a dance?” 

She was not drunk enough for that. “Yeah right,” she snorted. “Tabloids would have a field day if they caught you dancing at your own campaign fundraiser with a strange woman who is decidedly not your wife.”

“Or, think of the free publicity for the shop when your name gets printed in the Gazette?” Harvey said, ever the optimist. “C’mon Jacky, buy me just a little time before I have to throw myself to the wolves?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the bar towards the dance floor. Jacky shook her head, but her traitorous lips pulled back in a smile. This game of pretend was going to fall apart one day. His other hand went around her waist, warm and secure, the two things she always felt around him. This was too close. Those eyes, that smile, at this proximity were lethal. He was perfect. Gotham’s golden child. He was going to change this whole city, make it a better place, maybe give people like her a chance for once. And that meant one day he’d dance little Jacky Ripley into a nice and tidy jail cell of her own. How would he look at her then? The shy shop girl. The hitwoman. The liar. 

“Harvey...you know I should probably tell you I can’t dance,” she said softly.

“Aw damn,” Harvey laughed. “And there goes my idea of having you make me look good.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

I don't know how much this adds to the discussion regarding Animorphs being children's lit, but I think it's important to keep in mind that kids' books can get away with heavier themes than kids' shows tend to, so if someone's coming into the discussion with the framework of "for children" they may need to keep in mind that as a book it can cover more ground than a tv show that grownups just have to glance at to decide if it's "too much" for their kiddos (whether it is too much or not).

This definitely adds to the discussion of Animorphs as children’s lit!  I think you’re hitting the nail right on the head.  Many people don’t realize this (I didn’t realize this until I was in college and had a class on the subject) but television shows have to justify themselves to a metric shitton of people before they’re allowed to go on the air.  Books only have to justify themselves to a moderate-sized committee, if that.

People who have the power to veto content on TV shows include (but are not limited to): individual writers who have a particular idea, head writers who don’t like the idea, script editors who might take it out, directors who refuse to film what they don’t like, videographers or artists who add their own creative vision to ideas, visual effects teams who can cut things based on budget, voice actors who can protest decisions they don’t like, episode editors who might take an idea out, producers who won’t back anything that might cause controversy, studio executives who can pull content that’s not “on brand,” national network crews that can decide not to air certain content, local network crews that can also decide not to air certain content, and future “backers” who might decide not to invest in a show based on its content.

People who have the power to veto content in books include: the author with the idea, the agent who publicizes it, the editor who polishes it, and the publishing agent who sells the idea.  At most.

Nowadays, one can self-publish one’s own work with ZERO outside input, or else very little.  The Martian was read by exactly two (2!) people before Andy Weir put it on the internet, and it became an international bestseller.  It would be possible to make a self-published TV show with that little outside input… but most platforms wouldn’t promote it, and would probably take it down if it got hate-reported or had content violations.  Not only that, but (as Cates pointed out) books get edited as content that has already been written, in a story that already exists.  Shows get edited in the context of deciding whether it’s worth the trouble to write an idea that’s still hypothetical.

Television is ultra-conservative (in the sense of never rocking any boats in any direction) because it has to please hundreds of people with creative input and to justify its multi-million-dollar budgets.  Books can reach the minimum production value necessary to be good with the influence of one person (okay, lbr, two people) and fifty bucks for printing or web-hosting fees.  That’s the reason that only 42% of non-animated roles and 39% of animated roles go to women on TV, including only 12% of non-animated roles and 4% of animated roles going to women of color.  By contrast, 63% of children’s lit on The Atlantic’s bestsellers list is written by women, about female protagonists; that’s not counting books by men about female protagonists.  (They didn’t collect data on authors’ ethnicity; if anyone has this stat, HMU.)

It’s the reason that Arthur just made national news THIS FUCKING YEAR by depicting a same-sex (traditional) (Christian-coded) wedding ceremony, one that local networks in Alabama chose not to air.  Meanwhile, in 2015 Cates presented a conference paper about the history of kids’ picture books with queer protagonists, a history that goes back to 1981 (Jenny Lives with Eric and Martin) and covers such mainstream 1990s series as Bruce Coville’s Magic Shop and Dav Pilkey’s Captain Underpants.  We see the importance of the lack of gatekeepers: for instance, the author of Heather Has Two Mommies struggled to get a mainstream children’s press to pick up her book, so she went to a lesbian publisher, which ended up creating an entirely new branch for children’s books.  (Apparently there were entire publishing houses just for lesbian books in 1987?  The more you know.)  One other interesting case study for queer content is Gore Vidal: in 1948 he published what would today be classified as a YA gay romance novel (The City and the Pillar) but in 1959 he had to “code” and hide the queer content in the Hollywood film (Ben-Hur) that he also wrote.  Television to this day uses queer-coding in lieu of actual romance, especially when it’s kids’ TV (see: Legend of Korra or Adventure Time), while children’s literature has already made the push all the way into demanding that the queer romances in Grasshopper Jungle and Geography Club be more intersectional.

To be clear, it’s not like children’s books have carte blanche in this regard — Applegate and Grant have both apologized for having to code Mertil and Gafinilan rather than just marrying them off, and have expressed regret over not getting to write an openly bisexual Marco or openly trans Tobias.  But kids’ books can still fly under the radar of the wowsers in a way that kids’ shows often cannot.

Anyway.  Queer representation is obviously just one of a plethora of issues that get very different treatment in children’s books vs. children’s shows.  There are plenty of others.  Children’s shows can depict violence, but have to treat it as silly or inconsequential and avoid showing blood.  (Because that’s a great way to teach kids about not harming others!!!)  Children’s books can have as much blood — and, apparently, as many spilled entrails — as they would like, as long as those things don’t happen in the first couple of pages or make the cover summary.  Neal Shusterman is responsible for some of the most cringe-inducingly silly AniTV episodes, and also some of the most brutally unflinching works of children’s literature I’ve ever read.  American screen media are no longer subject to the Hays Code, but its marks still remain.  American literature has pretty much always been the Wild West, and with the advent of online self-publishing, the west is getting wilder.

Don’t judge a book by its movie.  And don’t judge a book by its show.  AniTV is tame and silly, treating its violence as inconsequential and its characters’ mental health struggles as harmlessly or innocent.  Animorphs has the courage to show that when you shoot a man he doesn’t just silently fall over and disappear but bleeds and screams and dies, that being a victim or a perpetrator of such violence can leave even “innocent kids” fighting for their lives against PTSD and depression.  It has the courage… but it also has the freedom to do so.  That’s an extremely important distinction that should not be overlooked.

[ecofinisher]

Wedding in Japan 2 - Chap 16

Chapter 16

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25131394/chapters/62893837

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13637197/16/Wedding-in-Japan-2

 https://www.wattpad.com/936407829-wedding-in-japan-2-chapter-16

Wayhem stood together with Adrien on the other side of the main station at the bus port holding on his back a small backpack while Wayhem was looking on his smartphone at an email, which was a seat reservation he ordered a short while ago. 

“We just have to let the driver scan our QR codes to confirm our boarding and that’s all” Wayhem mentioned. “You won’t need to stove your bag in the luggage compartment, just I have to put my suitcase,”

“I can’t still believe you gave up your ride just to not let me go alone,”

“I just want to make sure, you make it home safe and sound” Wayhem answered patting the blonde on the shoulder. “And a good thing for us will be, we have each other’s company and can talk with each other, so our time in the coach won’t be as boring as when going alone,”

“Yes, 13 hours shouldn't be a problem. Those 7 days I was with Kagami on the train, those space of times we were bored as heck…..That was a problem. We still talked a lot and visited different cabins to pass the time during those days, but it wasn’t something we were used to do,”

“Yes,” Wayhem agreed. “Have you managed to talk with Kagami yesterday?

“No” Adrien answered. “But you know, who answered the call?”

“No, who?”

“My cousin Felix” Adrien answered. “You know the one, who’s quite similar looking to me,”

“Why did he attend your call?”

“I don’t know. He just told me Kagami’s fine he would take care of her and also whatever he’s doing isn’t personal, it was a job. That’s what’s making me worried about not being present right now. What kind of job is that and what has it to do with Kagami?,”

“No idea, but someone should put an eye on him” Wayhem mentioned. “Hey what about your best friend Nino?”

“I’ve sent him a message, but he hasn’t answered yet” Adrien answered.

“He will call you back, don’t worry” Wayhem assured making Adrien nod. Wayhem checked the time on his smartphone, then he gazed at Adrien picking his suitcase. “Come, let’s look for our coach,” Wayhem said walking on the sidewalk in front of the parking spots of the coaches passing by a few parked vehicles, which had in front of their parking spot a display announcing the destination of the parked coaches in front of it.

“Oh I always wanted to go to Amsterdam” Wayhem mentioned passing by an empty parking spot, where they had passed by.

“Well, when you save every month a bit of money you could just take this company to head to the Netherlands. If the comfort is good enough for you”

“I will have to see the ride” Wayhem pointed out. “I believe I can take the Startrain there. It will only be around 3 hours I think,”

“That works too” Adrien answered, then both stopped as they read on the 12th spot the capital of France on the display and a few people putting their luggage in the double decker’s compartment.

“Oh, hopefully, I can sit on the front row at the top” Wayhem commented.

“Go ahead, I will try to call Nino again,” Adrien told earning a nod from the tan-skinned man, which moved forward to the luggage compartment to hand out his suitcase.

Adrien picked up his smartphone to look for Nino’s phone number, while on it he passed over Kagami’s phone number and thought about Felix having attended her smartphone and pressed on her phone number to call her to see if he could reach her instead.

“The selected phone number is currently unavailable. Please try again later,” “Okay, maybe you are available,” Adrien said sliding down at Nino’s phone number then pressed the phone symbol to call the Moroccan man and his phone call was answered immediately. “Great, I have reached you,”

“Hey dude, how are you doing? Are you finally coming home?”

“Yes, we’re boarding a coach right now. About 13 hours we will be there” Adrien answered. “Wayhem decided to come along with me, so I wouldn’t be alone or in case something goes wrong,”

“A good dude he is” Nino commented. “Have you informed Kagami about your whereabouts?”

“Not yet. It’s the third time I call her and it’s not available,” Adrien answered. “But the only time my call was answered Felix attended.

“What did he say?”

“He said Kagami was fine and he would take care of her and he isn’t doing this, because of being personal, it was his job. I feel like he’s trying to ruin my image to Kagami,”

“I was yesterday in their house and you….erm I mean I thought it was you first, cause he wore your clothes and looked just like you and mentioned, that Felix was kidnapped and you were worried about him. I mentioned, that you told me you were in Hamburg and he countered with saying it was a location’s name on a French road and your parents bought it. Kagami was a little confused and unsure if you were traumatized by what happened to Felix,” “He’s repeating that same scene he did years ago on the anniversary of my mother’s disappearance! Nino can you make sure Kagami finds out, that that’s Felix, who you two are dealing with or at least make sure he doesn’t hurt her in any way?”

“I inform Alya about it and we both have our eyes on her like two lions on their lion cub,” Nino promised.

“You’re the best Nino,”

“Oh and before you leave or anything. Just for you to be informed. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but I thought you should know this. Your cousin yesterday gave Kagami a small slap behind her rump without her commiseration. She jumped. She didn’t like it the way he did or I don’t even know if you do that kind of things,”

“He did what?!??.......This…..this…..grrrr…..jerk” Adrien snarled angry at his cousin’s deed. “Thanks for telling me that and please keep your eyes very good on her or what Felix wants to do,”

“I will” Nino answered. “If I have to force him away from her, I will,”

“Or try to find out a way to show everyone, that they have Felix in front of them and not me,”

“Good, I will look for a way to help them distinguish him from you. I will keep you informed,”

“Thank you. In 13 hours more or less I will be back in Paris and I will immediately head towards my parents' house and surround him,”

“Sure, see you tomorrow and bon voyage!”

“Thank you” Adrien responded and placed his phone back and entered into the bus entering into the second level of the bus to encounter Wayhem sitting on the first row next to a blonde woman in a short blue summer dress.

“Hey, you’ve found Aurore” Adrien mentioned earning a nod from the blonde man.

“Wayhem just told me, he’s helping you back home,” Aurore spoke earning a nod from Adrien.

“Thank god” The former model responded. “If I haven’t come across him, I would probably be around the city trying to find my way out of here,”

“I was surprised to encounter him here” Wayhem mentioned. “But at least I could help him out of trouble,”

“Yes and I’m very thankful for that” Adrien said moving to the second row to sit behind them. “I will be here,”

“For real?” Wayhem asked looking back at the blonde, which winked at Wayhem, which rolled his eyes at Aurore, which was looking through her smartphone for songs to play.

“You got this boy,” Adrien said making Wayhem shrug his shoulder and sit back down, then Adrien leaned back on his seat, then remembered to pick out his smartphone and searched for his wife’s phone number to try calling her again.

“The selected phone number is currently unavailable. Please try again later,”

Adrien sighed and opened the message box and typed down a message to his wife. “Hey Kagami, it’s me Adrien Agreste. I don’t know if you received my last messages, but I need you to know, that I’m on my way back home and I was framed, then landed in Germany without any money and debit card. Thanks to Wayhem, I’m finally heading home back to you. Please this is all a misunderstanding, I need to talk to you as soon as possible. XXX Your silly kitty,”

Adrien leaned back on the seat sighing about not having managed to talk to Kagami to explain, what happened.

   Felix sat in Gabriel’s office watching him printing out a sketch of a dress he finished designing on his computer.

“I found before in Adrien’s bedroom images of the superheroine Ladybug. Did he have a crush on her?”

“I don’t know” Gabriel answered. “I know a lot of young men in the past were really fond of her,”

“I remember he used to have in his smartphone’s gallery images of her. A lot of images of her,”

“If you’re thinking about getting Ladybug to play with you for the images to send to Kagami, I don’t think you’ll ever find out, who she is,”

“I know, I’m still thinking about, what to do in the future” Felix explained. “What I noticed is, Kagami doesn’t seem to believe that I’m Adrien. I gotta work more on myself to gain her trust so that I can stab her in the back without any problem,”

“Alright, but be careful. If she finds out it’s you, our plan has failed,”

“I’m doing my best, don’t worry” Felix assured, then walked out of the office to encounter Kagami entering the mansion carrying her barrel bag. “Good evening darling. How was your day?” Felix asked walking towards the blue-haired woman.

“Good” Kagami answered. “And yours?”

“Fine too” Felix responded. “Shall I take your bag up?”

“No it’s fine” Kagami responded. “I need to take a shower,”

“Go ahead” Felix responded giving Kagami a kiss on her cheek, then he watched her walk the stairs up, then Felix smiled believing Kagami didn’t seem to mind his kiss. “This went well” Felix mumbled watching the woman disappear into the corridor, then he walked back at the door and got out of the house and he encountered on the exit of the plot Nino, which was about to ring on the door, then Felix whistled to call Nino’s attention. Nino smiled, then watched Felix come down to him.

“Hello, my friend” Felix greeted. “How are you?”

“Hey…..Felix” Nino greeted making Felix wide his eyes confused.

“What are you talking about?” Felix asked. “I’m Adrien,”

“No, you’re not” Nino responded. “The real Adrien talked with me before and the other day,”

“You talked to me, brother” Felix lied making Nino chuckle and take his phone out to show Felix Adrien’s phone number. “I can’t answer the call with my phone on the inside” Felix tried to trick out the Moroccan man, which pressed the call button, soon Adrien attended it.

“Nino, did anything happen?” Adrien asked making Felix frown and grab the smartphone off Nino’s hands to throw it across the road towards a house causing it to break.

“Are you fucking kidding me??!?” Nino shouted at Felix’s deed.

“Stay away from me. Do you think everyone here will believe your story?” Felix questioned watching Nino glare in anger at the blonde. “Get out of here,”

“You’re going to pay for this, don’t worry. As soon as Kagami finds out, who you really are, you’re screwed up,”

“I don’t think so. She’s beginning to realize I’m Adrien and as soon as I earned her trust…..” Felix finished and walked back into the house, then Nino grabbed on the bars of the door at the road and began to shake on them harshly.

“Get back here!” Nino hissed watching the blonde disappear into the mansion. Nino cried out annoyed and crossed the road to pick up his smartphone. “Adrien I hope you’ll be here soon. This guy is going too far with this shit” Nino spoke to himself and made his way out of the street of the Agreste family.

[pjamesstuart]

The Loss of Silence in the Mortal Realms

(This has already been on the blog but unlike most of my blog posts it does actually relate to form.)

Visual Silence is a term I keep coming back to. Its meaning is drawn from many places. One of the most important of these is how a miniature is painted, but here I'd just like to talk about some of the elements which spring almost purely from form. How a model is shaped.

One of the first and most important is the time signature of a miniature. This describes the slice of imagined time that a model is assumed to occupy. After thinking about this I've broken it down into a handful of sketched categories of time in miniatures;

Ruin Time.

This is the far end of the scale. Even using this in comparison to the time signature of 'living' forms is a bit of a cheat but it makes a handy place to begin. Imagine a huge stone head or an abandoned imperial building on the battlefield. It is not meant, or imagined ever to move in the ideaspace of the game. So the imagined period of time which that form is assumed to occupy is huge, and that feeling is part of how it is meant to work.

But to stop cheating and to focus on living figures for a moment.

Portrait Time.

This is one in which the figure is standing in a comfortable position, perhaps not emotionally calm, but with their body absent kinetic tension, muscles largely relaxed and their particular objects held close to the bodies centre of gravity or stowed in a way in which their weight is centred and contained. In this we can imagine that the figure paused for a portrait. They might have been there for an hour, and probably someone could stand like that for maybe an hour, with some minor shifting about, without becoming too uncomfortable.

Stepping Time.

Or, really, Contrapposta time, after all those Greek, Roman and then Renaissance statues of someone in marble captured in the act of stepping forwards. This is the time signature that Skagrott the Loon King and Yvraine both occupy, in almost the same position and dress, producing some amusing comparisons. (Oddly, both of these have animal companions that go with them which have their own time signatures. Yvrain has her smooth and slinking Gyrynx which pairs and mirrors her own style of movement while Skagrott has two manic little Squigs captured in mid-bounce who's time signature breaks his up a little and adds a touch of the ridiculous.

Bearing Time.

This is a signature much more common to old Warhammer Fantasy where a huge number of its line models had it. Here the figure is bearing a weapon, but it’s not swinging, firing or impacting. So the weapon is not captured in the exact moment of its use but instead in the minutes, second or even possibly hours directly before its use. Those times of near-violence. Here the bodies balance is usually slightly out of its centre of gravity. Muscles are under some tension and some extension, but not too much.

Battle Time.

Between bearing time, and the one after this, fragment time, there are probably a huge number I have failed to analyse and spot. Really each army and figure can have its own subtle interpretation of time depending on what it is like or assumed to be doing. The new AoS ghost models are all in a state of assumed movement. It's hard to tell if they are going slow or fast but the general sense is of them flowing over the earth like a leaf on a breeze, and their forms flowing with motion like washing on a line. It's not _quite_ like a figure running as we don't have bodies to looks at so the assumed motion is not sensed in the same way. It is its own particular thing.

Anyway, this space between Bearing Time and Fragment time is the space between the swing of a sword and its impact, the moment as a lance thrusts forth, the seconds before a shield takes a hit. I'm marking this one - MORE RESEARCH NEEDED.

Fragment Time.

A dark elf assassin, or a modern Squig Hopper, are both caught in the same splinter of time. A fragment of explicit kinetic movement, the apogee of an arching curve which, if it were to continue for even a fragment of a second longer would result in some shift in form or a change in the image they present and the space they occupy. This is form treated like a photograph, except most actual photographs would blur if you tried to capture something moving this fast, (which actually might be really strange and interesting if you tried to mimic it in form, how do you blur a shape?) so its like a high speed photograph.

Those are the basic categories of time I'm thinking about, but more important than any particular classification is simply addressing or thinking about the time which the miniature or sculpture you are looking at is made to occupy.

And then thinking about how that meshes with, reflects or alters the times of all those figures around it.

Because silence, or at least quietness, in movement as in sound, is relative. It is created by its context.

There are a handful of other concepts I would like to go into as relating to visual silence.

Morphic Tessellation.

A key difference between old Warhammer Fantasy and AoS is the loss of neatly grouped square formations. Instead, everything is individual, bounded by its own round base and only somewhat jostled together with its kin.

An important thing with older minis is that they are both sculptures in their own right, but also, and at the same time, tiny pieces in a mosaic of shapes which makes up the regiment or group it is part of.

One of the strongest ways in which this becomes evident is in the case of long weapons like Halberds, Muskets, Spears and a few others. Here, with the minis as it would be in reality, the long straight lines, either standing up like a forest of spikes or pointing forwards, form this gridwork which both illustrates and emphasises the morphic tessellation of the block as a whole.

(I think its going to be hard for GW to bring back long weapons like these in AoS because when you pick them up and then re-pace them after a move, you _really_ need all the lines, all the sticks, pointing in the same way in a nice group. If they aren’t oriented properly then the length of the line really calls attention to that.)

The same can be said for apparent uniformity and micro-differences in stance, loadout and appearance in minis in these blocks. Because every figure is arranged on the same axis, facing the same way, with the same weapons and armour, small differences in stance and other elements stand out more than they would otherwise and create a different effect. It is like a lineup of similar looking men. If they were to mill around randomly it would be a blur of similarity, but in a line, and regarded both sequentially and as a whole, these small differences count for more individually and add more life than they would in an unstructured crowd. You both see and sense them more powerfully due to the spatial uniformity of the block.

Put simply, the block as a whole *is* the sculpture as intended. That is the reached-for affect, the individual parts are largely that, just individual parts.

Heraldic Minis and Swiss Cheese Minis

One of the interesting qualities in lead and plastic moulding is the flat plane the figure must be on. The two sides of the can then be pressed strongly together so that the molten liquid flows through it properly.

(I don't know if you could invisibly 3D print a multidimensional mould *inside* a seamless bock of metal in some way. That would be kind of a trip if you could.)

Modern GW tricks its way out of this by breaking down a complex 3D model into a series of fragments exhibited on a flat plane, then you clip out all the bits, glue them all together and there you go, a more spatially complex model. But back in the ancient times they were less good at this so you had to have all of the model, or almost all of it, as one neat thing presented across one plane in the mould.

Obviously this had some limitations but there were some aspects and some models where the limitations were used to produce an effect, one of these is the heraldic aspect of many models.

In heraldry, many of the animals and living figures are presented with the axial tilt of their bodies incorporated into the visual image more than would be possible in a photograph or purely realistic painting. So the lion or unicorn or knight or whatever is showing you more of its body and different elements, different planes or sides, than would be possible from just looking at it from any real life direction, no matter how it was posed.

This lends it that feeling of strange starchiness and hyper-presentation. These figures seem slightly gauche and, from a modern pov, slightly silly, frozen in these strange display positions and often filled with a sense of their own serious gravity. But they are also hyper-presenting, showing more sides, more elements, more expression than should be possible in a realistic viewpoint, and this helps to give them a peculiar intensity.

Some of the good early GW minis make use of this quality. They perhaps hold their weapons in a way which is slightly presentational, as if they were on parade, or on a stage. They seem like figures from greek theatre, presenting these very simple, stark, almost overloaded expressions. And, crucially, they tend to occupy only one axis in space. I imagine space and form almost flowing around them like a diagram of aerodynamic flow.

The Big Melon Comparison

One way to imagine this is to picture one of these minis as if it were the seed in a big soft fruit like a melon. Something with a juicy, somewhat adhesive sticky sweet pith. You have a knife and your job is to get in there and just get a clean seed out of the fruit.

For some axial or heraldic figures it wouldn't be hard to do that, once you cut it open they would just slide right out and once you had it out, scraping any remaining fruit out of the cracks could be done easily with the point of a knife.

Modern minis are less like that. Space does not flow around them, instead it pokes fingers into them. They interpenetrate with space in a variety of complex ways. If you had to get one of these minis out of a huge melon and then clean it, firstly, your melon is fucked because you are probably going to destroy it getting the seed out, or at least gouge a huge hole in it. Then if you want to clean it off then it’s going to take ages. The seed will drag a lot of fruit with it and getting into all the crevices is going to be a nightmare. There are bits you will never, or not easily, reach from the outside.

The idea of the sticky and difficult fruit here, being a kind of tool of thought to let you sense how an object interacts with the space around it by replacing Nothing with Melon.

Visual Silence.

There must be many more elements of course, not the least of which is painting. A Blanchitsu-style mini when compared to a Sughammer mini is going to feel a lot more visually quiet. And there are all the accoutrements its objects and the things it wears and holds. And what GW would call the 'pace' of a mini, its relationships of 'empty' or calm areas of form to its busier or more baroque elements. And expression of character of course, the little goblinish grin or snarl always lends an air of mania. The stoic observing space marine is a little more silent than the shouting space marine.

But I focus here on three elements which all relate almost entirely to form. That is, they would be the same if the figure were matte grey or not. And three elements which I am reasonably sure I can define well and which I have not seed described that much buy others;

• The time signature a miniature is captured in. • Whether it is meant to be part of a mosaic of form. • And the axial or melon-retaining nature of its shape.

All these play a part in creating relative visual silence, or relative visual noise.

The Silence of the Troops.

So in old warhammer, troops in general, especially when you look at any individual model and especially when those are models meant to be arranged in a block, are visually silent, or relatively silent when compared to their squad or battalion leaders and the army generals and special characters.

When the eye plays across the army, the hierarchy of visual silence matches the hierarchy of the imagined force. Big figures feel big, energetic, important, not just because their models are that way but because they are that way _when compared to the rest of the army_. That sense of importance and visual power and 'character' is in large part a relative one created by the scene and the frame, not the thing at the centre.

The Noise of Meritocracy

In AoS that hierarchy and patterning of silence has broken down somewhat. Minis aren't locked together in precise arrangements, they can 'choose' their own position relative to each other.

There has been a revolution or upending in silence. Before the leaders tended to be loud, relative to their comparatively silent troops. Now it is more likely for the troops to be visually loud and silence is more often reserved for the grim, still, leaders.

Now every mini can be special in its own way, it is not just part of a visual or morphic chorus, and advances in manufacturing combine with this to mean that every mini can be interesting in a three dimensional way, they no longer *have* to be heraldic or axial.

The problem here, (and its only really a 'problem' if you define it as such, cognitive mode, personal aesthetic and momentary feeling can all play a role), but even if it’s not a problem you think is bad, its still an element, question or polarity you should recognise;

Is that because every miniature _gets_ to be freee.

Every miniature HAS to be free.

And to a much greater extent than before

It is a lot like moving from a feudal hierarchy to a meritocracy. Everyone gets to do what they want, which is good. And everyone is in almost constant competition with absolutely everyone else almost all of the time, which is possibly not good.

You can see this when comparing old generation Warhammer Fantasy minis with modern new ones. They don't look quite right on the same battlefield. In terms of their time signatures, their personal magnificence and the degree to which each figure is expected to dominate and interpenetrate with the space around it, they are very different.

An AoS figure tends to be like an individual instrument like a horn blaring, or a guitar doing a solo, while a Warhammer Fantasy instrument is more like one of a row of violins, who's job is to work together with the other violins. So if you take one person out of that row, and have them doing the same thing on their own, and compare that to a guitar solo, they look stupid and not very good. But they were never meant to be experienced on their own.

And that's (arguably) a problem, or at least an aspect of an AoS battlefield. Its a LOT more visually noisy than a Warhammer Fantasy battlefield, everyone is much more just playing their own music and so the general volume of visual noise has to go up.

The key point here isn't that you should hate AoS or the way it does things, but that comparing the two visual and morphological paradigms, more simply; the way sight and shape work in these two different games and eras, without considering the fact that they are playing very different kinds of music, (albeit they seem highly similar in other ways), might lead you down a wrong path, of comparing like to like without appreciating the differing contexts and intentions.

[txfsimstyle]

Vacancy Signs Pt. 7

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, & 6

Previously....

Mulder kisses Scully’s head and helps her cradle the baby’s head. ”Have you thought more about a name?” Mulder asks quietly while Maggie cuts the cord and wraps up the baby. Maggie is beaming at the child, eyes full of unshed tears. The whole scene causes a lump to form in Scully’s throat. They haven’t talked much about names. She’d thought of it of course and knows right away what name she wants. “I like the name, Audrey.” Scully murmurs as her mother hands over the whimpering bundle. “Audrey meaning strong.” Mulder answers and gazes at the baby. Scully nods and looks up at her mother. Maggie nods, “That’s beautiful Dana.” “Hey Audrey, welcome to the world,” Scully says and kisses her baby. 

The Lone Gunmen’s secret bunker Somewhere outside of DC Three days after Audrey’s birth 3:45pm 

“Wow newborns are kind of ugly.” Langley says as he gives the baby a wave. 

“Shut it blondie, she’s beautiful.” Frohike scolds and leans over the bassinet.  “She is beautiful. Congratulations you guys.” Byers says with a smile.  “She’s a good girl too, real quiet and just watching everybody all the time.” Mulder says as he runs a finger down his daughter’s velvet cheek.  The Gunmen watched the baby for a few more minutes and then left the new parents alone with their daughter. 

They stared at her silently for a moment, just admiring Audrey.  “She’s perfect.” Scully whispers.  Mulder kisses her head and holds her. 

“I started doubting I’d ever find you.” He says against her hair. Scully turns her face into his neck and pulls him close.  “Thank you for finding us.” She murmurs against his skin.  “I’m going to find out why they took you and what happened. The Gunmen have some data they want me to go over with them.”

“Ok boys so are you going to tell me what all of this shit means?” Mulder asks as he examines the complicated equipment in front of him.  The Gunmen have taken him to a back room in the compound that appears to house all of the machines that keep the place running. 

“You wouldn’t understand it if we tried to tell you.” Langly responds before reading a couple screens and pressing a few buttons. 

“Try anyways.” Mulder says dryly.  “Each computer tells us the information we need to know about the atmosphere and general safety both underground and above ground. They help us control the air, lights, and heating down here and with this one over here we can monitor what is going on above ground.” Byers goes through the list of things each machine does and soon Mulder waves him off.  “Just tell me about the ones that are important to me.”  “This one here has been keeping track of the communications between the various members of the Syndicate as well as higher ups in the government. It’s been very quiet since the event for the most part except for the day that you rescued Scully.”  Byers points to some printed out data sheets.  “Krycek. He probably let them know we were on the way but why the hell did no one stop me? I mean there was no one there, like they abandoned the project.” 

“That would match up with what we’ve been seeing.” Frohike says as he enters the room, “I hate to say it Mulder but it looks like they wanted you to get to her for some reason.” Mulder pinches the bridge of his nose, “You think they did something to Audrey.”  “We’re running the DNA tests now. Scully said we can do a CT and some other tests in the next few days just to make sure.” Byers says. “You jokers have that kind of equipment?”  All three nod solemnly. “We didn’t know what we’d need.” Byers answers. 

Skinner joins them as they gather around a particular machine with readings that mean nothing to either of the two FBI men. “Now this baby here tells us what kind of shit is going down all around the world. It helps us to keep track of alien activity. Lately they’ve been pretty subdued, in this country at least. Apparently many of them have gathered over India where people appear to be fighting back.” Langly says and shows off the machine like a proud father. “Do they stand a chance?” Mulder asks. The Gunmen share a look and shake their heads, “It was over the day they came into our atmosphere.” “What do they want?” “They are mining for a substance called Magnetite. We have no idea what they want it for but the more they accumulate the fewer ships there are.” “So they destroyed the entire planet just for that?” “Well we think they saw the threat that humans were to the planet and decided to take matters into their own hands.” Mulder looks at them not understanding. “So whenever the colonials would conquer a new place they would say that the natives were living bad lives and needed to be taught and changed. They would manage the population, take everything they could from the land, and then rule. It was always a civilization with better weapons, a bigger army, and preparation taking another by surprise. In this case the aliens have been preparing for this for god knows how long, have weapons that we can’t even begin to imagine, and have an army that can’t be counted. They are coming in, cutting down the population, taking what they want from the land, and we believe they will then leave.” “What makes you think they will leave?” “Cause they’ve already started.”

Five days after Audrey’s birth 10:34am

Scully sings softly to her daughter as she changes her diaper. 

Audrey looks up at her with serious hazel eyes that seem to old to belong to an infant. Scully rocks her baby back and forth slowly and looks for any signs that she is anything but normal. She wonders if she will ever stop looking for signs that her child is anything but normal. It’s only been a few days but to Scully it’s felt like a lifetime. There is an odd divide in her life, a before and after. Before Audrey, and after Audrey. Her life will never be the same. 

Mulder walks in and crosses to his little family with a smile. “Hey.” He says as he slips his arms around Scully’s waist and smiles at their daughter.  Audrey’s thoughtful eyes move to him and he runs his hand over her nearly bald head. “Can I hold her?” He asks softly in Scully’s ear.  Scully chuckles and smiles at him, “Mulder of course you can, she’s your daughter. I need a bathroom break anyways.”  Carefully Scully hands Audrey over to Mulder who stares at the baby reverently.  “It’s still weird to me.” He says in the same hushed voice.  Scully cups his cheek, kisses him softly, and makes a quick getaway. Mulder makes a silly face at the little girl, even though Scully has told him repeatedly that it will be a while still till Audrey is smiling or laughing.

She kicks her legs out and gurgles, blowing a couple spit bubbles from her mouth. “Hey little baby girl.” Mulder whispers to her and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll protect you. I promise.” 

Two weeks after Audrey’s birth 2:10pm

Maggie Scully’s new favorite place to be is with her granddaughter. When she holds Audrey she is able to put aside her worry and sadness for just a little while and enjoy the child’s total innocence of the world around her. 

Every day since the invasion she has wondered about her sons and their families. Before the return of Dana she had wondered endlessly about her daughter as well. These days she tries to occupy her time with managing the bunker, which is a never ending job.  She takes care of all the cooking and much of the cleaning. The men never asked this of her but she knows that they would live on a diet of frozen dinners and snacks if not for her. Not that the food she can make them from what they have are that spectacular. 

Having Dana back has also helped her state of mind. The thought of spending the apocalypse as the sole woman in a group of men seemed unpleasant to Maggie.  The Gunmen and Skinner had, of course, been very kind but having another woman, especially her daughter, around is nice.  Skinner in particular had been very good to Maggie. The two had grown close. 

Often times when the pain would feel too much, Skinner would listen as she talked and would even comfort her when she needed it.  She considered these things as she looked at her newborn granddaughter. And she smiled. 

[storyunrelated]

Every man for himself!

Have I mentioned this before?

I have a soft-spot - hey-oh! - for anything where there is a GROUP and that group has to confront CHALLENGES and in these challenges people DIE and eventually one person is left over. You know, your Battle Royales or your Hunger Gameses or your Running Mens or your Maze Runners your, uh, TSC's I guess

Of course there are differences. The differences are what make them different! Obviously. These things are only similar in the sense that those characters involved find themselves in a location, predicament or event that involves them struggling for their lives, often against others, and typically for a reason.

The reason is what excites me! Especially if it's obtuse and stupid! It delights me!

Sounds like I'm taking the piss, I'm not, I fucking love this shit. Running Man (the film version, mainly) is your standard 'keep the future masses entertained through bloodsports' deal, though most others now tend to focus on the event as some kind cross between bread and circuses and social control. To keep the masses entertained AND subdued! Hunger Games as spectacle and as state tool of oppression to remind you of where the power is. You know, that sort of thing.

And it's important that this predicament be an artificial construct. This isn't, say, a group having to cross a desert to find a better life on the other side. This is a group being forced to cross a notoriously lethal desert full of monsters and other shit by someone else just to see what happens. It has to be a constructed event made by an outside force.

But anyway, where am I going with this?

Nowhere, really. Just watching the Belko Experiment and now the Scorch Trials brings it to my mind and make me grin. Ordinary people forced into extraordinary, unpleasant circumstances! Or willingly going into them, sometimes.

And this all reminds me of the one that I did! That I never did anything with for some reason. This twelve-thousand word...thing called 'Run For It!' that I know I have mentioned here once or twice.

It is predictably a bit silly, and mostly serves just as a long succession of events with no actual characters. The main notion (or at least what I like to think I aimed for) was contrasting a breezy narration with some rather unpleasant things happening to people who are reacting by going to pieces. The crowds fucking love watching it, those involved are terrified and utterly helpless.

I've sometimes toyed with the notion of expanding it out and giving it, you know, something approaching a proper plot and people to follow and stuff but that's effort and, really, who gives a shit?

That, and I can't do action scenes with tension because I am immune to tension because I personally do not give a shit.

Still, let's throw some chunks of it here.

Looking forward to the Run was one of those things that kept most people going. The sort of thing you could gather the whole family around to watch, assuming you had enough of a family left to do so. Given the capricious nature of society and the unfeeling aspect of life itself (from which there was very little protection nowadays), having something to look forward to was always nice. Especially if that something involved watching other people suffer instead of you – as solid a reason the Run was so popular as any other.

Broadly speaking it was annual, kicking off whenever they reached a sufficient number of Runners. None of those involved knew it until it started, of course. They went about their lives blissfully unaware right up to the moment they were snatched up and taken off to the RunnerDome. Some might have objected to being hauled into unmarked vans as they walked along or to having burly men smash their way into their bedroom in the dead of night and drag them away in front of their screaming children, but then they really should have read the fine print if they minded so much.

-

However, there was only so much that quality entertainment could do to distract from the pressure of oppressed bladders. One particularly brave young Runner asked the robot standing guard over them whether it might be possible to go the toilet a touch early. It was after all only five minute’s difference, and wouldn’t peeing on the floor be worse?

If the robot was moved by this argument it said nothing, as instead it silently and efficiently dismembered the asker, popping their limbs from their sockets as though dismantling a piece of furniture. Leaving the Runner mewling in a heap by its feet, the robot then informed the others waiting that the comfort break timer had been reset. The mewling heap peed on the floor, but the robot didn’t seem to mind much, even when it ended up standing in the path of the expanding puddle.

-

There was also, as there always was, the usual round of conspiracy theorising wherein which it was posited that the Run was all a smokescreen to keep the population appeased and distracted while nefarious activities happened unnoticed. Oddly, this wasn’t actually the case. Nefarious deeds weren’t even kept hidden anymore anyway, and the Run was one of the very few things done for entirely transparent reasons – chiefly that those in charge happened to think it was hilarious, but mainly because at this point it would take more work to stop it then it did to continue it. As far as the powers-that-be were concerned it was a win-win, and the conspiracy theories were also hilarious, so really it was a win-win-win.

-

The greatest concentration of the new advertising was to be found in the Dewhurst Memorial Shopping Centre, which had been silently agreed upon as the testbed of sorts, to see just how effective these prohibited advertising styles actually were when used in real life on real people.

Herds of eager shoppers flocked up to the ribbon on the day of the grand opening, clamouring and gnawing on one another in their eagerness to snap up as many bargains as possible. The advertising had started almost as soon as they had set foot inside.

It had been a terrifying, unmitigated disaster. Or, as the press-releases at the time had said, it had worked ‘too well’ and the public had simply been ‘underprepared’ to ‘satisfactorily compete in a modern advertising setting’. An accurate bodycount had never been made but the press-releases were quite confident when they said that if one was made it would ‘not be as bad as people are saying it would be'.

-

It must have all been too much for her, winning, because there in the darkness she was moved to tears. She cried and cried and cried for hours and hours, passing out still propped upright only to awaken some time later to resume crying - wordless, incoherent howls echoing out into the dark, empty Winner's hall.

Winning always seemed to do that.

[hush-falls-the-evening]

When I was young

Characters: Jonathan Crane, Edward Nygma (scriddler - established relationship)

Rating: G Words: 2196

Synopsis: Part 1 of 3 of Wish I knew you. Edward receives an unexpected invitation, and gets carried away with a plan. Jon doubts there’s anything good in it. Fortunately, Edward is very convincing.

misc info: slice of life, just a little hurt and comfort, domestic fluff, old men bickering and loving each others. There’s going to be a other parts but I really loved how this one stands by itself.

“Great news, Jonathan!”

The door was burst open as Edward waltzed into the room. Jon had been reading his latest test results, trying to pinpoint the best counterpart to a particularly unpleasant side effect his latest experiments seemed to produce on some patients. An empty vial rolled down his desk, and almost hit the ground, before being caught mid-flight by a very undisturbed Jon, who had not deigned to show an ounce of interest in his partner’s boastful entrance.

“It’s too warm and you’ve decided to switch back to your spandex?”

“Don’t be absurd.” He then paused, muttering. “The spandex is the right outfit for the right occasion. No no-” he moved toward the desk, which was pretty messy, by all means,  about to sit on top of whatever was there.

Jon finally spared him a threatening glare, making Edward do a great show of closing the open books, and pile away the stray sheets into their unused binders, and one silly folder with a few spooky marks scribbled on it, and THEN sat on top of the now cleared spot. “-It so happens that I have received a particularly unexpected invitation in one of my private inboxes this morning. I though you might find some humor in it.”

The Riddler waved a printed piece of paper in front of him. Jon did not look at it, but stared up at the other man’s face, leaning back into his chair. His long fingers braided themselves meticulously under his chin.

“Is it relevant to my interests for you to disturb my work?”

“Of course it is: I am an interest of yours,” he added cockily, then winked. The stoical man remained unimpressed, but did not object. Edward then waved the message again, calling for his attention.

Reluctantly, the former-yet-still-informally-practicing psychiatrist took the sheet and pushed his reading glasses with as much skepticism as he could muster in a single gesture. Edward rolled his eyes, motioning at him to just get on with it.

‘The Greenwoods Institute is cordially inviting you to the 30th anniversary Reunion of the class of 19XX-’

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed gravely as he read the entire mail, than looked up at the expectant expression on his partner’s face, than back to go over the entire mail a second time.

“Did you stole someone’s identity and somehow managed to get invited to a graduates’ reunion?” he flipped the page to inspect the other side, which was blank. Silly Jon.

“Oh oh no, that would have been too simple. You and I both know my personal feelings regarding Academia.” He sneered slightly at the thought. “Nonetheless, I required some kind of reference to get where I needed to be when I first strolled into Gotham. So I made some arrangements prior to that.”

“So you technically graduated a school you’ve never been to?”

“I successfully graduated a school, with the highest recommendations. An establishment with a good reputation and a very flawed database. And security. And staff,” he huffed in contempt at the offending memory. “The fact that the old Director had to keep his lips tightly shut about the whereabouts of my admission, least he exposed himself to the very damaging nature of the shocking revelations encompassed in my excruciatingly detailed folder of personal data-” he paused in his elaborate tirade, offering a particularly proud smirk with a flourish. “-is only a bonus.”

Jonathan stared soberly at the genius seated on his desk, before a wry grin slowly crawled onto his thin lips. He looked at the mail for a third time, now with the intended irony Edward had boasted about when he first came into the room.

“Oh come now, Jonathan. I didn’t stroll here beckoning your ‘oh so precious attention’ just to get your silent snark!”

“It is pretty irritating to know a preschooler managed to download himself a high school certificate and terrorize the presiding authority.”

“Jealous, perhaps? Oh, and I wasn’t that young. or else that makes you a living artifact!”

“I’d like to point out that time has no bearings on fear.”

“Well I think you might want to check in on your lovely cracking joints first. Also, the 1600s called, and they want their shoes back in the shortest delay.”

The doctor actually chuckled darkly at his indignation. “You must had been the original inspiration for the old ‘someone could hack onto your computer’ ads.” He was clearly enjoying their banters here, which pleased Edward quite a bit.

“Well…” Edward tried to remain as factual about it as possible. “Of course, historically there has been much, MUCH more significant cases back in the days, and anyone could easily read about this really but-” he trailed off, looking away with an irrepressible smile.

“I presume you’ve done similarly with a hypothetical college degree of some kind?”

“Oh. No. Well-… That’s another story, which I am pretty sure I told you before,” He stated accusingly.

The wiry man observed him quietly. There was something warmer in his stare, Edward would look into it if he had the time to seize the moment, before it flickered away. He seemed… nostalgic, almost.

“So,” Jon drawled, deliberate spider he was. “Any hypothesis as to why they’ve invited you now and not at the reunions previous to this one?”

“I though of that, evidently. It is most likely the Director had enough conscience to go over the list and skip my name before sending the invitations. More so, his current records seem to indicate he’s been hospitalized a few times so, it is very possible he was not aware that someone would mishandle the guest list while he was away.”

“Possible,” Jonathan commented, his thumb and index were brushing his jaw reflectively.

“….. What are you thinking about?” Edward asked with cautious curiosity.

The older man exhaled calmly, and seemed to change the direction of his thoughts entirely. “You know in old folklore, it was particularly rude to not invite the resident spirits to join the town events. Nobody expects them to show up, but to-”

“Jon, I know you’re not just referring to Sleeping Beauty, but please tell me this is not just because we ended up watching the spinoff movie two weeks ago, since we could not agree to watch anything better.”

“………….. Nobody,” he repeated slowly, persistent. “Expects them to show up. But to leave them -out- of an event?” his hands went back to fold together over his middle. His eyes were staggering. “That is, a whole other level of insult, my darling,” he eerily cooed. Obviously pleased with the trail of thoughts he was entertaining.

Edward took note of his own fevered heartbeats, and inhale sharply. “So! Does that mean I can count on you to join me?”

That knocked out Jonathan’s spell in an instant. “What?”

Edward felt almost sorry. (but not really) The man looked almost owlish with his glasses. “Wait! What was I thinking. I should do this the proper way.”

The redhead hopped off the desk, and collected himself for greater effect, and-….. smiled.

It was a really sweet smile, yet Jonathan had not moved an inch, and instead stared at his partner blankly.

How could a grown, seasoned villain like Edward, proud, exuberant, self-confident, unbeatable in his domain, seeker of all mysteries, -including Jon-…… looked almost flustered, as his breath hung onto an embarrassed smile.

He managed to catch up some of his usual bravado and asked with great eloquence. “Jonathan Crane-”

“Edward-”

“-will you, do me the pleasure to accompany me to the belated prom I’ve never had?”

It showed he was very proud about this grand setting. That for sure. It wasn’t as if they’ve never went out together. They did. Rather often to Jonathan’s tastes, but they did.

But the older man remained frozen in a deadly stance for much longer than his occasional surprises would sometimes occasioned. And what seemed like an achingly sweet plan in Edward’s mind crumbled slightly at the lack of reaction from his second-favorite rogue.

“Jonathan?”

It took him, much longer than Edward’s nerves should had been able to wait for. But Jon breathed again, blood flowing back up the brilliant doctor’s face. Frowning considerably as a hollow, disbelieving laugh escaped him.

It really wasn’t a pretty laugh, either. And it irked Edward spectacularly.

“Jon, I was legitimately looking forward to asking you this,” he pointed impatiently.

“Don’t, ah. Don’t take this the wrong way, Edward. I just didn’t think I’d be asked to ‘prom’ a second time around. I’m not, particularly fond of my reminiscing memories of the prime event.”

“……… Oh.”

“Ever eloquent, as always.”

Edward had somehow moved and dragged a chair next to him. Jonathan watched warily as he looked at his partner, who was quietly assessing if it was alright for him to reach out. After a moment, Jon gave a tired nod, and focused on the familiar hand pressed on his forearm.

He seemed rather irritated- or embarrassed- at his momentary lapse. Almost treating the silence as a necessary evil: eager to move onto another topic and unsure how much of himself he was -or had- revealed in the last minutes .

For now, he looked at nothing in particular, and found some comfort in that.

“Will you at least let me plead my case?” Edward asked after a while, his thumb tracing the soft flesh of his forearm.

“The more adamant you are about something, the more incline I am to argue and disagree,” he warned, but not dismissing his idea just yet.

“I know, I know. As it is not… always uncalled-for. I know you don’t talk, nor want to talk about… your youth in general. And in light of this, I’ll make you a better offer.” His enticing grin was back once more, his voice smoothing in a conspiratorial way. “You come with me, as my roguish partner-” Jon turned a deadly glare, calling him out on his blatant sugar-coating. “- and we, as the true outstanding individuals we are, and were always meant to me, outshine anyone who ever had the ineptitude to think otherwise.”

Jon scrutinized him in great detail, hypothesizing on every possible flaws. “….. Are you ready to waste your time on this, solely because you accidentally clicked the wrong shipping options for your latest order, and you find yourself with too much time on your hands?”

“AH. Of course not! I don’t make the same mistake twice!”

Jon gave him a look, toward which Edward huffed in a dismissive way.

He was dead right, and he’d be damned if he showed Jon how it had sent a cold shiver of shame down the Riddler’s spine.

“You do know these people are mostly just middle-aged citizens with mundane jobs, ordinary preoccupations and fears? This would be no better than a placebo-experience to patch-up whichever trauma and missed opportunity we’ve been through.”

“And these citizens, several states and stones away, are painfully unaware of what dark spirits they have been denied to meet thus far~”

Jon would had argued further, but his lips snapped shut. The glare was now accusing, but subtly tinted with…. approval. Edward looked at him expectantly, delighted, victorious.

“Of course. I should had known you’d appeal to my interests.”

“What can I say? Sometimes your interests coincide with mine.”

“Sometimes.”

There it was again. That look. That oh so personal warmth Jon had so rarely allowed himself to show to the world, or even to Edward up until much later after their initial rivalry. ‘Initial’ Rivalry. It was still there, as both man were drawn to win the upper hand of a situation through wits and well-timed theatrics. Edward was simply… more implicitly showy about the extent of his power and knowledge.

That intelligent gaze, the one Edward had discovered and treasured after years of knowing the man, had never failed to fascinate him more than even he liked to admit.

He suppressed a much-too-honest grin, and lowered his eyes to where his hand was resting on top of Jon’s sinewy forearm.

The tips of Jonathan’s long fingers brushed softly through his hair, where silvery strands as begun to show amid the vibrant ginger. They stroke the outer-shell of his ear delicately.

“And what if this whole ridiculous affair was only a way for Batman or our fellow rogues to lure us out of Gotham for a few days?” he asked softly.

“… Possible,” he admitted just as softly. “It occurred to me as well. I’ve already prepared a few safety measures in cases of impromptu escapes in the past. Additional protections and a thorough scan of my network would be mandatory to get a better understanding of the current status quo as well. Not that I am not perfectly aware of everything already…” he trailed off.

Jonathan removed his glasses and laid them casually on the desk before him. His fingers combing deeper into Edward’s hair as he leaned toward him. The arm under Edward’s palm moved, their hands joining somewhere along the way.

“I’ll help you secure the details, then,” Jonathan finally offered. The sober words were only an excuse to retain some of his resilient reserve. They could have fooled Edward, if the context wasn’t speaking a much tender language.

Their eyes met, and Edward found no logical reason not to cross the distance between them.

[dothewrite]

oh god i loved that platonic relationship scenario you did so much itwas so cuteee. do you think you could do a similar one but with terushima and akaashi? it doesn't have to be about a boy but just similar to the original scenario in the sense that the girl is emotionally down and feeling quite insecure about herself whether it's like her body or whatever ?

This might be a bit (read: lots) different from the original style- can you tell I’m losing my marbles. I just needed to let loose a little in this one. Still, I’m sorry this is super late, but thanks for enjoying my original scenario. :) This is the ‘or whatever’ part of your request, but I hope you find it helpful in some way.

The original post here.

It’s animpossible habit to break when you’ve been paraded in front of various forms ofyourself since you can remember. Your mother and relatives had always actedlike the mirror was something you should be happy about- look at how adorable she is!- and would make you twirl in half-step circles,like a concubine in front of her jailers. They’d talk cheerily at each other,making cooing sounds that should have been for girls at least half your age,and you’d pull at the pigtails that pinched at your scalp in an awkward act ofself-consciousness.

The feeling doesn’t last.

The tricky thing about mirrors is that theyonly reflect, and each mirror is different, and so are your days. The one thingthat never, ever changes, no matter how much you plead, pray, or attemptthrough your paltry meals is you. The person in them.

It’s a solitary stand against yourself eachmorning, when you’re past your childhood and nobody parades you around anymore.Nobody takes you by the shoulders and pinches your cheeks to tell you you’recute. Men tell you you’re beautiful and hot all the time, usually in poorgrammar and after that comes wolf whistles, or unsolicited dick pics, and youhave to think: really? In Japantoo? This day and age?

You don’t take advice from the transferstudents anymore, and the rush of relief when you press the cross icon todelete the dating app on your phone is the best you’ve felt about yourself inseveral days. You take extra care not to accidentally face the mirror, just incase your mood gets ruined.

But they’re everywhere, and youcan’t run. You’ve gotten used to it by now, and some days when you think you’vematched an outfit particularly skillfully, you even sneak a peek at a passingwindow, or the strange, twisted reflection in the elevator doors. Most days,you can convince yourself to think: hey,maybe I don’t look so bad, andkeep walking.

People, however, enjoy spending their timetelling you otherwise. Whether they mean it, or they don’t, you can always seethe pleasure on their faces as they run their hands down their shirts as theymention that you’re not looking as shabby as usual that day, or that shirtdoesn’t make you look as odd as usual. The doctor asks you for your BMI whenyou get your scheduled check in, and you don’t need the numbers on a sheet ofpaper. When Terushima asks you how it went, you tell him that you werelucky that you didn’t get a doctor who’d leer at you.

Truth be told, there’s nothing worth lookingat, yet Terushima nods, looking satisfied.

“I know you wanted a new jacket,” he says outof the blue, “wanna go get one?”

“Right now?” You ask, confused. He’s right,you’d said that, but today is- today is not such a good day. Terushima’swatching every emotion flash across your face with a practiced focus, but hesimply takes your hand and pulls you closer.

“Yeah. Let’s go. Leather, right?”

“I- yeah, a leather one would be nice.”

He grins, and a corner of a sharp canine pokesout from under his upper lip. “Good. I know exactly where to go.”

His motorcycle fits his character like a glove,and although you’re wearing decidedly not cool looking clothes, the confidentglance he shoots you before he revs up lets you believe for a second thatyou’re right where you should be. Your arms squeeze his waist, as usual, anyless would be dangerous for this breakneck speed, and you don’t mention a wordabout how his jacket is tailored. It’ll probably cost you an arm- and it does, whenthe very proper looking man takes your measurements for a slightly impropergarment- but there’s yet to be a moment where Terushima’s stopped touching you.The soft imprints of his fingers chase away whatever fastidiousness youmight’ve had at the little numbers of the worn measuring tape, and the ticklesof touch keep you on your toes- glancing here and there, and Terushima dancesaround you like a ghost, ready to haunt your fears better than they haunt you.

If you’d been asked what the attendant lookedlike, you would be hard pressed for an answer that isn’t a guess. Blonde hair-that’s Terushima’s, long fingers? That’s also Terushima’s. A warm smile, andwithout a doubt you know that’s Terushima’s. You’re left alone by the sofas fora rare moment, and you dare to flutter your eyes shut for a second and imaginea world without shape; you’re nothing, you’ve no boundaries except for whereTerushima’s mapping them with his fingers. A hand on your shoulder, around yourarm, over your shoulders, against the small of your back- he’s there right now,a chin resting on your head and he reaches out to stop you from pulling yourwallet out when you’re welcomed back to reality with a smart, handwrittenreceipt.

It almost throws him off you when you tiltbackwards to stare at him in surprise.

He cuts in before you can- “I’m doing this,” heinsists, pushing your knuckles back into your pocket. “I’m taller and strongerthan you, I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

“I’m not going to fightyou,” you say exasperatedly, “but Shuuji, you can’t be ridiculous about this.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see theattendant quietly slide out of view. Then Terushima’s back, filling up yourvision and seeking out your eyes with a worrying fervour. “This isn’t beingridiculous, okay? I got this, and it’s for you.”

“It… it’s a lot.” You start to feel a littledizzy just from thinking about the numbers. “You should save up your money, foryou stuff.”

“Like what, retirement at thirty? C’mon.” Hepushes himself into your space and smiles his crooked smile at you with thosewicked teeth. “I just want to get you something. It’s time I reminded you thatI’m here for you, even if you don’t wanna talk about it or you forget sometimeswhen you spend too much time in your head. Yeah?”

A lot of answers try their lot in your mind.You know perfectly well what he’s trying to do, and even if you didn’t, youcan’t deny warmth that’s streaming so solidly through your body as if theelixir of life. There’s a small possibility that it’s a spur of the momentdecision, a result of a poor day, but never in your life have you seen yourfriend, or any man for that matter, seem so sure about anything before.Although Terushima’s never been one for regret, this is something different.

This is inevitability. As if a mere mortal likeyourself could push aside the goodwill of something with the brightness of eightand a half suns. You pull out both your hands in surrender and frown at himwith a frown you don’t mean at all.

“Fine, you win. But don’t think this is thelast you’ll hear about this.”

“Alright, alright.” Like sorcery, theshopkeeper’s back at his station and Terushima’s holding out a card you mostcertainly didn’t catch him take out. The sound of the receipt getting printedmasks his reach for your hand with his, and you watch enthusiastically asTerushima attempts to replicate his signature with his left hand.

He looks like an idiot, that much you can tellfrom the owner’s expression, and you daresay that your linked hands look kindadumb too. Terushima walks out the shop looking like he’s just won a war, andyou’re probably smiling like a lunatic, and the two of you most likely looklike idiots to everyone else.

That’s okay. Terushima doesn’t lead you back tohis bike, but keeps on walking. He doesn’t even turn to look or ask if you’reokay with what he’s just done, simply: “feel like frozen yogurt?”

“Always,” you tell him, in the middle ofNovember. Terushima grins, the tilt in his head betraying the fact that heknows exactly what you’re thinking, but says nothing.

There isn’t a single step where he isn’t stuckto you, apologizing wordlessly for getting a frozen dessert on a chilly day.Yet, pressed up against you, you can’t possibly catch a glimpse at your ownreflection with him blocking the way of endless window panes, and all you endup seeing is how silly the two of you appear- his huge frame and most of youobstructed by it. He swings around so you’re facing the open street instead,and cars are too fast to catch yourself in.

You’re okay with that, and so is he.

Now that you’re, well, older, you’d think thatyou’d be able to, if not everything, control some things in yourlife. Like your daily routine, for example, or how long you use your phone forat night, or whether or not you’re finally going to send that email that you’vebeen avoiding for weeks now. Okay, those are slightly more important things.But matters like whether or not you have a good enough facebook profile pic, orwhether you should cave in and get a snapchat account- surely,peer pressure’s kinda hard when it’s literally just you in a studio apartment,right?

That’s what makes the taste in your mouth thatextra side of bitter, like you vomited in your mouth three days ago and hadn’tdeigned to brush your teeth. You don’t even have an instagram, sowhy the fuck are you on it?

Plus, honestly right now, you can’t give lessof a shit how you got onto this hell-site, because that’s not important. Yourprofile picture isn’t important. Validating yourself in the eyes of your peergroup has never been very important- as least, you try to keep it that way.

It’s hard, sometimes. When it’s three in themorning and you’re alone with blankets just slightly too thick and you’reeither sweating or freezing, and when the only light that’s emitting is fromthe stupid photo app on your phone and the huge, pale green shadow you makeagainst your modern, unpainted walls. Paradise from someone else’s camera andsomeone else’s ocean villa is less enchanting than it’s instagram filter.Scroll down two or three, and you see your friends looking ravishing in theirgraduate gowns, their postgraduate diplomas fluttering in the gentleCalifornian breeze, or perhaps, if that’s not pleasing enough, there’s alwaysthe lovely ‘first day of work’ photos in swanky high rises. One look at their pencilskirts and heels and you can almost hear the sound of stilettos cracklingagainst polished marble in the late evenings.

Oho. Success has a sound, alright. It soundslike that stupid voice in your head telling you to look while you can, becauseyou aren’t going to see the Bahamas in a bikini (so small it makes you looklike a whale, by the way) any fucking time soon.

Blip. Wearily,like you’ve looked away in the first place, you sort of, fold into your phonelike someone does a meringue and click on the notification.

You’re still up. [Akaashi Keiji03:32]

Yeah, well, so is he. What a night owl. ‘Owl’,heh.

You’ve recently cut your nails, so no matterhow hard you tap your unrealistic, online keyboard, it makes next to no sound.Stripped even of your figurative, finger stiletto heels, and you watch as thepads of your fingers make soft, squishy noises against the oiled glass.

I’m going to call you. You have read receiptsturned on, by the way. [Akaashi Keiji 03:35]

Exiting your text messages altogether, you giveup on your half-assed reply and wonder why you even bothered in the firstplace. Plus, even with the pretty well stated warning that you’re about to geta phone call, you still flinch into your pillow pile when your phone screamsbloody murder, too loud for the empty room and your thoughts.

“Hey,” you say into the receiver. Veryoriginal, much eloquent.

Akaashi, of course, doesn’t beat around thebush.

“Three AM is not so good a time to be lookingat pictures of the beach.”

“It’s not just anybeach.”

“Sorry,” Keiji says, sounding possibly theleast sorry he’s ever been in his twenty plus years of existence, “is it theBahamas or Koh Samui?”

“Maldives. I think it’s one of those ‘I workedhard!’ getaways. Doesn’t seem like a honeymoon, to be honest.”

“Too many pink drinks, too few rose petals. Youcan always tell.”

You pull a pillow out from under your mountainand shove it underneath your knees. Time to sit back, relax, and enjoy the shitshow that is your life on the phone, and one can’t do that without proper backsupport. Maybe you’d start saving for a memory foam mattress instead of thischeap IKEA shit. Oh right, the catch being that if you probably don’t haveenough money for a vacation, you probably don’t have the money for a SealyPosturpedic. Who the fuck needs income, anyway.

“You’re taking too long to think.” Keiji knows.Keiji always knows. He should start a business, only that youcan’t pay the bills. “Where did you go off to?”

The odd thing is, it’s never occurred to youthat not talking to Akaashi at odd bits of the night is a way to live. It’snever occurred to you that the two of you would be anything else, either.

“How inept I am. At pretty much everything.”

“Oh,” he half sighs, half says, “you’re more thandiplomas, more than jobs. You know that.”

“Yeah, I’ve promised you that I’ll do my best,and I have, but there’s gotta be a cutoff point, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe I’m not a special snowflake. I’mnot some untapped talent that I’ve never bothered to exploit- I’m just what Iam.”

“You believe that where you’re at right now isthe best you can do.”

“I-” your sentence starts to unravel right whenyou’re about to say it, and you unleash a torrid wail into your cushions whereit’ll never see the light of day. Akaashi stays silent on the other end andwaits patiently for you. “Yeah. Like, even if I worked my fucking ass off, I’dnever finish two degrees at Oxford in five years. I can’t beat genius!”

“And sometimes it’s not just academia, right?Sometimes it’s anything you choose to do.”

Keiji alwaysknows.

“So what’s the point?”

“I don’t know,” you say miserably. “I can’teven look away from the stupid instagram photos because I’m a masochist,apparently.”

“I can’t say that I’m the expert at any ofthis,” Keiji answers you quietly, “but we talked about this before, and do youremember what we came up with? That there’s more to life than being the best?There’s more to life than being better, you can be okay with just being happy. And thatisn’t failing to live.”

“So, being okay with mediocrity.”

Akaashi huffs a laugh out, turning into staticwhen it reaches you. “Don’t twist my words, moron. You know exactly what Imean.”

Akaashi’s always been different. The one andonly different in your life, where all you can see are rivalries, and he’s justtranscended that. He’s parallel, on his own path, at his own speed, andalthough this guy is somehow first in his goddamn medical internship, there’snot a speck in you that can possibly revolt. Akaashi isn’t the type to postpictures of his certificates on instagram. He’s the type to go home at 1am,after an eighteen hour workday and call you at three in the morning because youneed to be called, and manage to say exactly the things you need to hear.

These people shouldn’t exist, seriously. Andeven if they did- and they do- you don’t deserve them. Not your miserable, dulllittle ass moping around in bedsheets you can’t really afford, thinking youhave it so bad.

“We agreed it wouldn’t be easy,” Keiji’s voicegently shakes you out from your quicksand, “so I’m reminding you. Everyone’sgot their limits, but after knowing you for so long, I think this isn’t yourlimit. This isn’t all you can do. You have to remember that.”

“Is this a professional diagnosis?”

“Yeah,” he’s giggling (chuckling? You likegiggling more) and it makes you giggle too, “as a bullshit specialist. I’mmaking you laugh now, so I’m doing alright.”

“Well,” you say as you finally start to leanback and stare at the ceiling, “I was sitting here being super mopey andmiserable earlier. So miserable that I couldn’t even cry. An actual pile ofshit.”

“It’s part of the medication. You get to bemiserable, and each time you’re a pile of shit, you get closer to being better.”

“Be my family doctor, Keiji.”

He’s laughing too hard to sound tired now, butyou’ve been counting the minutes in your head this whole time, and he’s givingyou all these happy, tingly feelings so you’re gonna pay him back. A bit of it,at least.

“It’s almost four,” you tell him, “you shouldgo to sleep.”

“Will you?”

“Yeah,” you grin wanly even though he can’t seeyou, “I’ll sleep and you sleep. Deal?”

“Deal,” and the exhaustion leaks back into him.You made a good call. “Goodnight, and get off that damn site.”

Akaashi doesn’t wait for your goodnight (henever does, because it’s always a chain that lasts another half hour), andhangs up. You let the phone fall loosely from your hands that misses your facenarrowly, and close your eyes.

Too tired for misery,and too tired for instagram, you say fuck it to charging your phone and beginto count your sheep.

[the-tales-of-horror]

The patient with an empty diagnosis

Original Link By  manen_lyset

Last week, when I was taking a break in the middle of the graveyard shift at the hospital, one of the other nurses ran in looking rattled.

“Claire, I need you in room B,” he said, his face as white as the walls surrounding us.

I closed my book and craned my neck to peek into the ER. Being dragged off mid-break was nothing new, but it usually happened during an emergency, when all hands were needed on deck. This time, however, the ER was empty. There was one drunk sleeping it off across a row of benches, but aside from the sounds of his snores, everything was quiet. No one was prepping for the arrival of multiple casualties, either: if we’d gotten a call, there would already have been people lined up with gurneys by the door. Still, despite all appearances, Chris wouldn’t have come for me if it wasn’t important. I got up and headed out of the break room.

“What’s up, Chris?” I asked, as I followed him swiftly. If there was an emergency, every second counted.

Chris replied, “There’s a 40-something Caucasian male that came in. Seems in distress, but won’t let anyone near him.”

I raised a brow. “All right. Let’s have a look. Did the EMTs say anything about his condition?”

Chris shook his head. “He’s a walk-in. Came alone. Looked panicked, but wouldn’t say why,” he hesitated for a moment, “and there was something weird about the way he walked.”

I nodded. We didn’t always get great work-ups on patients, especially the walk-ins. With what little information Chris gave me, I could only assume the patient had hurt his leg or something like that. If I wanted to know what was going on, I’d have to examine him myself.

I entered Emergency Room B, and found the patient standing in the corner. He was tall –but not unnaturally so–, wore a fancy suit, polished black shoes, and white silk gloves. Every single button on his dress shirt had been done up. In fact, it looked uncomfortably tight. His collar pressed against his Adam’s apple so snugly I could only imagine it’d leave a mark. I could hear his strained, panicked breaths as he struggled to inhale through the constriction. Like many balding middle-aged men, his hair had gravitated to his chin, but I could still read the worry and terror through the bush hiding his tense facial features. His eyes darted side to side, like an antique cat clock.

If I had to guess based on his attire, my money would have been on a limo driver of some sort, but even then, the quality of his tailored suit seemed a few notches above their usual uniform.

“Hi sir. My name’s Claire, and this is Chris. We’re here to help you,” I said softly.

He twitched, but didn’t reply.

Chris whispered, “Hasn’t said a single word since he got here. Not one.”

I took a step forward, and saw the man’s jaw clenching in response. I lifted my hands non-threateningly and took another cautiously slow step.

“Listen, I’m here to help you, all right?”

My hand slowly slid down to my stethoscope. He watched me with almost impossibly dilated eyes, showing barely a sliver of his green irises. He must have been on some heavy drugs, I figured.

“Sir, I need to take your vitals. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

He continued to stare, but made no effort to escape as I bridged the distance between us. I pressed the chest piece against him, and slipped the earpieces on. I closed my eyes and listened, expecting to hear a thrashing heartbeat, but no heartbeat came. Instead, there was a constant, shallow, droning sound like the depths of the ocean, or the cosmic hum of solar radiation. I pulled my stethoscope back and touched it to my own chest to test it. It was working fine: I could hear the pitter-patter of my heart. Now almost as unnerved as Chris, I put the stethoscope back on our speechless patient. Still, all I heard was that same otherworldly noise.

Chris picked up the empty chart and looked at me. “Pulse?” he asked nervously.

I was torn between not scaring my patient, and giving Chris an honest reply. I hoped Chris would understand the subtle head shake I gave him. There was no reason for my patient not to have a heartbeat, though. He had to be alive: he was breathing, moving, and responding to what was happening around him. He was quiet, sure, but looked otherwise normal. Maybe the stethoscope couldn’t capture his heartbeat through the thick layers of his suit. I took a calming breath and reached my arm around back to try and slide it up his shirt. The man, however, stopped me. His arm swatted at mine, and though the impact was light and painless, the movement itself was enough to stop me in my tracks. I pulled away, sweat dripping from the sides of my face as I lifted my hands up again to show him I meant no harm. The way his arm had moved…it wasn’t normal. It was, in fact, distinctively abnormal.

I’m not sure how to describe it without making it sound stupid. But, you know those long, colorful, inflatable decorations outside of car dealerships? Those cylindrical men with goofy faces that flap around? As silly as this sounds, his arm movement reminded me of them. The way it bent, the ripple it sent through his clothes as he unravelled it, as though it were hollow inside…that’s the only imagery it evoked.

I wiped my brow and looked at the man. “All right. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to check your pulse.”

He shuddered. I could see that odd effect now again, this time, across his entire body. The way it moved wasn’t right. It was as though there was nothing but wind holding his suit in place.

I took a step back and grabbed Chris’ arm, pulling him out of the room for a one-on-one conversation.

“You said he was walking funny. What did you mean by that?” I asked, in a hushed and stressed tone.

Chris looked down. He didn’t seem to want to answer – he probably thought I wouldn’t believe him. “A flag on stilts.”

“What?”

“His legs,” he furrowed his brows, “they looked like flags on stilts. Or like those orange cone things at the airport. Look, I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“I believe you,” I replied.

I could feel his relief as he let out a sigh. “Should I call a doctor?”

“Yeah.”

Chris stumbled down the hall. I’m not sure whether his rush was to get help as quickly as possible, or to distance himself from the man inside Examination Room B. I couldn’t blame him if it was the latter. Even I wanted to get away, and I’d seen all manner of horrors come through my ER over the years.

I peered into the room, but when I did, the stranger’s face was inches from my own. I yelled and jumped back. He recoiled in terror, inching back to his place in the corner of the room, his body not so much moving as it was flapping. He fell into the fetal position and held his head between his trembling hands.

“I’m sorry! You just startled me,” I said, regaining my composure.

His head slowly lifted and his eyes focussed on mine. Though no sound came out, his lips moved, and I could have sworn they were wording out a plea for help. But, just as I was about to answer, the doctor stormed in.

“I hear we’ve got a problem case on our hands,” she said, with the lack of a bedside manner typical of veterans of the ER.

“Doctor Ulmar, there’s something wro-”

“Well, come now. Stand up,” she barked at the patient.

If waves could turn broken pieces of a beer bottle into smooth rocks, then the ER could do the opposite to the empathy of their staff. Especially when the doctor in question had been on duty for almost 48 hours.

The man stayed in place, clamming up now more than ever.

“I can’t examine you on the floor, sir,” Doctor Ulmar said dryly. “If you want treatment, you’re going to have to cooperate.”

I chewed at the insides of my cheeks. It wasn’t typically a nurse’s place to speak up against a doctor, but I had years of seniority under my belt. Still, I used my authority sparingly. It was imperative to maintain a ‘pleasant’ working environment.

“Doctor Ulmar, you’re scaring him.”

She let out an insulted huff. “Get him on the bed.”

I nodded and knelt down in front of the suited stranger. “We need to move you. I promise, we’ll make you all better, okay?”

He shook his head, lips quivering and eyes showing both desperation and nearly tangible fear.

“We won’t hurt you,” I whispered.

I could feel the doctor’s patience waning.

I held out my hand. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

He moved. Just barely, but I could tell he was about to reach for my hand and get up. It seemed, however, that doctor Ulmar had waited long enough. Without warning, she stomped over to us, grabbed his arm, and pulled.

I can’t tell you for sure how it went down. It all happened so fast. I know one of the buttons on his dress shirt came off: I found it later under the bed as I was clearing the room. I think doctor Ulmar tugged so hard it popped off, and his shirt opened just a crack. I heard the sound of a deflating balloon as I felt a rush of scorching hot air fizzle out of my patient. Then, his figure seemed to shrivel, and I heard something hit the floor. Doctor Ulmar let out an uncharacteristic scream as she stumbled back and looked at the scene. I, on the other hand, stared in shock at the pile of clothes laying in front of me.

There was a bulge in the middle of it. I reached for the suit and gently pulled it up like a used tablecloth. There, under the soft fabric, was his head, a length of spine dangling from it.

I don’t know if I screamed, or if the shock was so great that I went emotionally numb. I just remember looking at the now blank, lifeless head as it rocked back and forth to a stop. There was no blood, no smell, and no groans of agony. Just a perfectly –almost surgically– decapitated head, and an empty suit.

No ID was found on the man, no one showed up looking for him, and, without hands, it was impossible to run his prints. As far as I know, his head was sent to the coroner for an autopsy, where it has since either been preserved or disposed of. I’ll probably never know what happened to him, but based on the fear I saw in his eyes, I have a feeling whatever it was, it wasn’t intentional.

[mando-lore]

To kill a ghost: the absurd story of the Hammersmith Ghost

Certainly Strange: A Podcast About The Unexplainable, episode 9

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The night was dark, and a young pregnant woman was walking through Hammersmith. She approached the churchyard when she saw something… strange. A figure rose up from between the tombstones, tall and dressed in a white shroud. A ghost. The woman screamed and attempted to run, but the ghost was quicker. It grabbed her, pressing her in its arms. The woman fainted, and the figure vanished. Hours later, she was discovered by some neighbours who carried her home. There, she died two days later, seemingly out of freight.

Now, for us it might seem silly to be so afraid of what seems to just be a person dressed in a white sheet. But the young woman was right to be afraid. You see, where we might think of just a silly Halloween costume, someone dressed in a white sheet had a very different meaning for those living in the 1800’s. For a very long time in Western European cultures, the bodies of the dead were buried wrapped in a white cloth, a burial shroud. The rich could afford a coffin, but the poor were buried only in a shroud.

There came sightings of apparitions, figures dressed only in a white shroud. The dead had returned from the grave to haunt the living. Ghosts. And the most famous and most curious case of a ghostly apparition is the mystery – and murder - of the Hammersmith ghost.

It was first spotted in November 1803. Many of the Hammersmith residents thought that the ghost was the restless soul of a man who had recently committed suicide. The ghost is most often described as tall, wearing a white shroud, but some also claim that he had horns and eyes made out of glass.

In most cases where people see a ghost, the ghost is harmless, only an afterimage of a person, like a shadow or a fading photograph. But not this ghost. No, the Hammersmith ghost was violent. And he was out for blood. The pregnant lady was not the only one the ghost killed.

One evening, an elderly woman was knocked to the ground by the white apparition, and later died out of pure freight, just like the pregnant lady had done.

On another occasion, the ghost jumped out in front of a traveling coach, which frightened the driver so much he ran off into the night, leaving his horses and passengers behind.

One resident, Thomas Groom, was attacked by the frightening Hammersmith ghost:

"I was going through the church yard between eight and nine o'clock, with my jacket under my arm, and my hands in my pocket, when some person came from behind a tomb-stone, which there are four square in the yard, behind me, and caught me fast by the throat with both hands, and held me fast; my fellow-servant, who was going on before, hearing me scuffling, asked what was the matter; then, whatever it was, gave me a twist round, and I saw nothing; I gave a bit of a push out with my fist, and felt something soft, like a great coat."

On December 29th, William Girdler, a night-watchman, saw the ghost near Beaver Lane and ran after him. But then, the most curious thing happened. The frightening apparition threw off its white shroud.

"[It] slipped the sheet or table-cloth off, and then got it over his head; it was just as if his head was in a bag."

The frightening Hammersmith ghost seemed to be nothing more than a man. And it was something some residents of Hammersmith had already suspected. During this time, it was popular amongst thieves and criminals to dress up in white shrouds to impersonate apparitions so that they could rob their frightened victims. However, ocal people were still paranoid and local businesses were worried no one would pass through Hammersmith again to make deliveries because of reports of this deadly ghost. Ghost or not, something had to be done.

They had had enough. A group of men gathered in the Black Lion, the local pub and meeting point of the neighbourhood. London did not have an organized police force at the time, and so they decided to take the law into their own hands. It was time to hunt a ghost.

Over their pints the local men whispered of that which haunted their beloved neighbourhood. Most had seen him. It. The ghost, that white shrouded figure, who had killed 2 women already. And who knows what more he could do? Something had to be done, and quick.

At one of the tables, a young man was leaning over his ale. Francis Smith believed in ghosts. Something had to done about the ghost, indeed. And he was the one who would catch him. He knew it.

The following night at 11 o’clock, there he stood, with his gun in his hand. It was a monstrous thing, the gun. A flintlock with its long muzzle crammed with ball and nails backed with a mighty charge of powder. If there was one gun that could kill a ghost, this was it.

It was a dark night, that night. The moon was cold and gave little light. But it was plenty of light to spot a white spectre, Francis was sure. He walked through the abandoned streets of Hammersmith. Everything was black. And then, suddenly, there it was. Tall and white. A white apparition stood before him.

Francis cried out:

“Damn you; who are you and what are you? Damn you, I’ll shoot you.”

And then, he shot. The spectre fell to the ground.

It was the 4th of January, 1804, and Thomas Millwood was visiting his sister, Anne. He had just come off from work. He was a brick-layer by profession, and he wore a uniform that was all white.

There had already been several misguided attacks on white-smocked workmen mistaken for the ghost, and Millwood himself had been mistaken for the terrible Hammersmith ghost himself several times. Anne begged Millwood to dress differently, or at least cover up his white clothes, in fear that he could be hurt by someone thinking he WAs the true Hammersmith ghost, but he refused. He said farewell to his sister, and stepped outside the house to go home.

And then, Anne heard a gunshot.

The neighbours who heard the gunshot all came running outside to see what had happened. They surrounded the body, hoping to help, but the man was already dead. The shaking Francis Smith had shot Millwood in his lower jaw.

John Locke and George Stowe, two neighbours, approached Francis Smith, who “appeared very much agitated”. Seeing that he had shot and killed Millwood, Locke and Stowe advice Francis to go home. Millwood’s corpse was carried to an inn, where a surgeon, Mr. Flower, examined the body and was pronounced HIM dead as the result of “a gunshot wound on the left side of the lower jaw with small shot, about size No. 4, one of which had penetrated the vertebrae [sic] of the neck, and injured the spinal marrow.”.

Francis Smith was arrested for murder, but his trial would take an odd turn… as the ghost identified himself.

He was the Hammersmith ghost, he claimed. A local shoemaker named John Graham told the court that he had dressed up as a ghost to scare his apprentice, who had terrified Graham’s children with ghost stories at night. But that had been only once. Graham did not know anything about the other sightings. Perhaps, it was speculated, several people had joined in on his hoax to terrify their neighbours for fun. But no one other than Graham came forward.

Eventually, Francis Smith was sentenced to one year of hard labour. And the ghost seemed to have disappeared. At least, for nearly two decades. In 1825, there it was again, standing amongst the tombstones. Exactly where it had stood when the young lady had seen it.

Somehow a legend of a periodic return took hold. The ghost was predicted to appear again on August 3, 1955. That night, at 9:30 p.m., about a hundred people gathered at St. Paul’s churchyard, all in hope of seeing the famous Hammersmith ghost. By midnight, most people had gone home. Only 17 remained.

At midnight, they saw it. At least, they saw something. “Something in white” wafted out of the northwest doors of the church, which were locked, and drifted over to a lone tomb. The ghost was described as tall, and covered in a white shroud, hovering above the ground without legs. It floated there, above the tomb, for 20 seconds. And then, it vanished. Never to be seen again.

Man or apparition, dead or alive, the Hammersmith ghost is certainly strange…

SOURCES:

Alexander, J. (October 25, 2019). The Time Someone Shot A Ghost Dead In Hammersmith. Retrieved from https://londonist.com/london/features/hammersmith-ghost-story-murder

Dunning, B. (February 11, 2020). Killing the Hammersmith Ghost. Retrieved from https://skeptoid.com/episodes/4714

Engole (June 20, 2019). Hammersmith Ghost. Retrieved from https://engole.info/hammersmith-ghost/

Keane, G. (2019). Locating Literature in the Ghost Hoax: an exploration of 19th-century print news media. University of Pittsburgh. Retrieved from http://d-scholarship.pitt.edu/36549/1/Keane_ETD_2019.pdf

McDaniel, S. (October 27, 2019). Why Are Ghosts Depicted Wearing Bedsheets? Retrieved from https://talesoftimesforgotten.com/2019/10/27/why-are-ghosts-depicted-wearing-bedsheets/

Occult World (n.d.). Hammersmith Ghost. Retrieved from https://occult-world.com/hammersmith-ghost/

Swancer, B. (October 27, 2018). The Strange Case of the Hammersmith Ghost. Retrieved from https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2018/10/the-strange-case-of-the-hammersmith-ghost/

The Independent Rs. (June 25, 2008). The Hammersmith Ghost. Retrieved from http://www.indyrs.co.uk/2008/06/the-hammersmith-ghost/

The Monthly visitor. (January, 1804). The Hammersmith Ghost. Volume 6, p. 26; London. Retrieved from https://search.proquest.com/docview/3750170?pq-origsite=gscholar&fromopenview=true

[kadobeclothing]

How To Dress Well: The 15 Rules All Men Should Learn

There are enough rules in life as it is. Some, however, are there to help. Like the rules that govern how to dress well. Of course, every man or woman that has an opinion on such things speaks from personal experience – and no doubt what works for one doesn’t always work for another; or what works for one is considered too pedestrian or too avant-garde by another. So, when it comes to dressing, they always have to be taken at face value. They’re solid suggestions rather than the last word on style.But good advice is never to be sniffed at, and, as menswear becomes ever more rich and varied, ever more experimental and abundant, ever more trend-aware, in moments of confusion and self-doubt, it can help to have a valuable fall-back position that cuts through the clutter.These ‘rules’ tend to be founded in history – they’ve worked for generations, so might well be assumed to work well today too. And they tend to be founded in the obvious, so obvious they’re often overlooked: a preference for good fit, high quality, versatility, good value, lack of extremes and keeping it sober.There are certainly many other rules out there than are presented here. Some of these you may have already discovered for yourself. That, after all, is part of the pleasure of clothing, which no rule should hamper: trying new kit out, seeing if it suits you, seeing how it makes you feel. But, these rules have stood the test of time and, when used in conjunction, act as a failsafe guide on how to dress well today.1. Wear A Suit WellThe key to a suit looking good is fit. If you’re buying off-the-peg, focus on the fit across the shoulders because getting the chest and waist altered is a relatively easy job according to Davide Taub, head of bespoke suits at Savile Row tailor Gieves & Hawkes. “Be cautious about wearing a period suit unless you’re pursuing a total period look because in isolation the suit starts to look like a novelty,” he adds. Classic is best and most useful – dark, two-button, single-breasted, moderate in details. “It’s not boring. A suit is a uniform. The idea is to think of this suit as a canvas to build different ideas of individuality around. It’s the way you wear it, not the label inside, that impresses.”Gieves & Hawkes2. Invest Wisely In A Watch“A watch is like a piece of art,” argues Don Cochrane, managing director of British watch brand Vertex. “Choose it because you love it, not because you think it might make money. Watches are personal, it marks your passage through time. But you also have to be practical.” Aesthetic, functional, rugged sports models go with anything and can take the hard knocks of everyday wear. Yet, a watch still has to fit you. It should feel comfortable and be right in terms of size and depth relative to your wrist as well – 40mm is considered the ‘Goldilocks’ size.Vertex3. Don’t Shy Away From ColourWhether it’s on casualwear or formalwear, indulge in a bit of colour. “Most men are unjustly scared of it – they’re intimidated by anything that isn’t navy or grey,” says menswear designer Oliver Spencer. “But colour can be timeless too.” A green suit, for example, can look particularly rakish, while Spencer also recommends pinks, greens, mustard and brighter shades of blue as especially versatile year-round shades that will lift your entire outfit. But he adds that, when it comes to colour, less is still more: “You just need a bit of it, in one garment.”4. Wear In Your Jeans Until They Are YoursThe all-time most useful cut of the world’s most popular garment, according to Alex Mir, co-owner of Sheffield-based label Forge Denim, is ‘slim-tapered’. “It’s wider in the thigh, so it’s comfortable, but narrows, so it works with either smart shoes or sneakers,” he advises. “It’s the best year-round, wear-with-anything, dress up or down style.” The wise will wear dark, raw denim too and give the pre-distressed a wide berth. “The whole pleasure of denim is that it ages with the way you wear it. Why miss out on that?”A.P.C5. Look After Your AppearanceIt’s the kind of advice your mother might offer, but if you’ve invested money and thought in your clothing, look after it. Use wooden hangers for shirts and shoe trees for your best shoes; have your suit dry-cleaned and pressed; wash your clothes regularly and, ideally, don’t tumble dry them (it can degrade the fabric); and polish your shoes. Equally, it’s not just the skin of your leather jacket that you need to care for, the same goes for the one you wear every day. Establish a simple, but no less solid, grooming regime, brush your hair and cut your nails. After all, the devil resides in the details.House 99 by David Beckham6. Keep Your Underwear SimpleStyle isn’t only what everyone else can see. When it comes to men’s underwear, there are two rules to follow. One, novelty prints are not for grown men – “your underwear is not the place to express your ‘personality’,” as shirt and underwear-maker Emma Willis notes. And, two, heavily-branded underwear lacks sophistication. “Of all places where you might have the confidence not to have branding, your underwear should be it,” adds Willis. The style that has best stood the test of time, of course, is the cotton boxer short, likely because (as is the case with linen) they take repeated washing, breathe well and are comfortable against your skin.7. Spend Money On Shoes“Timelessness is about simple design and all the more so with shoes,” argues Tim Little, owner of heritage shoe brand Grenson. “The colour, the pattern, the sole – you don’t want it fussy. Anything fussy may look good now but will look strange very quickly.” Quality shoes — the gold standard being re-soleable Goodyear welted examples — are the kind of investment that should last 15 years or more. Opt for classic styles such as brogues, loafers, or a plain, dark, five-eyelet Derby on a round-toe last. “It’s the shape of the toe that really counts – and round never goes out of fashion,” says Little. “It’s pointy toes or square toes that look obviously impractical. Nobody has feet shaped like that.”Grenson8. Keep Accessorising To A MinimumAccessories like ties and pocket squares bring individuality to classic clothing, but be careful how you use them. “It’s best to harmonise them with what you’re wearing by picking out a colour or two. Or even to juxtapose them entirely,” says Michael Hill, creative director of men’s accessories brand Drake’s. “What you don’t want is to match them up.” When it comes to curating shirt and tie combinations, wear your tie or pocket square in a darker shade than your jacket. And don’t overdo the accessories either – if in doubt, think less is more and take one element away. “You’re aiming for an air of nonchalance,” adds Hill. “You just need one point of interest.”Drake’s9. Know ThyselfThere’s are few things less stylish than a man dressed as he thinks he should dress rather than in what he genuinely feels suits who he is. There are caveats to that, of course: there are no prizes for dressing like a rodeo clown unless indeed you are one. But whatever you’re wearing, you have to own it. Genuine style icons are those who go their own way with a self-confidence that comes from their clothes being a second skin, not a costume.10. Dress For The SettingStyle is not merely about self-expression; it’s also about being dressed appropriately for your environment. Think of clothes as being codes: you need the right combination to work with the setting you’re in – and that’s whether it’s a formal dinner or a lazy Sunday in the pub. The worst style is one which is out of place. Is this a kind of conformity? No, as one of Tom Ford’s oft trotted out fashion quotes explains, it’s a mark of respect for others. And about feeling comfortable in yourself. When in doubt, overdress.Mr Porter x Vive La France11. Don’t Skimp On GlassesInvest time into finding the right spectacles for you. “People spend an average of seven minutes picking a pair that will define them for the next three or more years,” notes eyewear designer Tom Davies. “Poor choice and poor fit are why so many people learn to hate their glasses.” Buy what you feel good in, taking into account your face shape but considering the top line of the frames’ relation to your eyebrow shape – team straight with straight, curved with curved – and your hairstyle. Buy wisely too, says Davies: there’s no point buying cheap frames and being up-sold on expensive lenses because the frames will look tatty soon enough anyway.Cubitts12. Choose Versatile OuterwearThe temptation may be to wear a classic style, but modern technical fabrics in darker shades and easy cuts are making coats what they should be – lightweight and breathable but also properly protective. “Changes in seasonality, the climate and buying habits are making heavy wool coats seem out of keeping now,” suggests Adam Cameron, owner of outerwear specialist The Workers’ Club. “Think of a coat instead as being your final layer – one you can wear as much or as little under as required.” A field or bomber jacket jacket is a good all-rounder but if you need to dress up, go for a short mac.13. Buy A Dinner Suit, Never HireOccasions for the height of formal dressing may be rare, but they’re all the more exacting for that. So, while it feels like an extravagance, owning a dinner suit that fits you rather than hiring one makes more sense after years of use. “With hiring, there’s always the risk of the wearer looking almost childlike while dressed in some oversized, boxy ensemble,” warns Toby Lamb, design director of contemporary tailoring label Richard James. Own as classic a dinner suit as possible: in midnight blue, single-breasted, with satin lapels and trousers seams. And it goes without saying you should learn how to tie a bow-tie yourself.Burton14. With Shirts, Stick To The Classics“It sounds silly,” says James Cook, head of bespoke shirtmaking for Turnbull & Asser, “but any men’s shirt can be made to look expensive if it’s well-pressed.” All the same, Cook is particular about the details. Strike a middle line, he recommends: avoid bold styles unless you think you can carry it off, and, for a collar that works with or without a tie, and that always sits properly under a jacket, opt for a semi-cutaway.Turnbull & Asser15. Know When To Break The RulesKnow when to adhere to dress codes such as black tie and know when to break them. Some are there for a good reason, typically because the occasion demands it or some higher authority – your boss, perhaps – expects it. But, likewise, as Drakes’ Hill notes, “we can get too hung up about rules as well, and there’s always a case for ripping them up”. That, after all, is how style advances, little by little. “Enjoy the freedom there is now to make mistakes.” Source link

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